


Touch You

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auguste Lives, Bodyguard, Bodyguard-Damen, Fluff and Angst, Hate to Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mystery, Nicaise Lives, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protection, Sex in later chapters, Sexual Assault, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Stalking, Student-Laurent, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 145,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: Damen is an elite bodyguard and SHOULD be protecting the rich and famous from harm, but his half-brother has taken over the family company and delegated Damen to menial jobs and an uncertain future...However, Damen is approached by an old friend-turned-enemy with an interesting job offer: 30 days of work in return for Damen's position in his family company.The client? His enemy's younger brother who has no intention of being guarded but is being stalked by someone with 3 previous victims...(TW: Sex/STALKING/Mentions of: Rape, Nicaise as a prostitute, Sexual Assault)





	1. Day 0: The Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys miss me??? After a week of not posting, I could help myself and posted this! A new story!
> 
> I was deciding between Modern AU or Omegaverse, and I decided on Modern to challenge myself a little and make the story REALLY different from my previous one. Auguste Lives but in this one he and Damen despise each other, Damen falls in love very easily, and Laurent shows his emotions better than in canon; I'm basing this loving off the adage 'men fall in love in 15 seconds, 'women' fall in love in 15 days' ;)
> 
> Also, if you can't see by the tags, this story is going to be dealing with some darker issues including stalking and sexual assault so just assume that EVERY chapter should have a TW sign.You have been forewarned! I'm going to try to update every 5 days as I'm now a full-time student and I'm writing a little slower this time around.
> 
> Enjoy!

** Touch You **

** Day 0: The Job  **

Damen had to struggle not to roll his eyes at the man in front of him. Piss-drunk, belligerent, and half a foot shorter than Damianos, he was shouting incoherently whilst jabbing his index finger into Damen’s chest. Damen was losing his patience and decided he had had enough when the man gave him a firm shove. That was a mistake, even though Damen had not even staggered under the force of said push. Damen used about a quarter of his strength to flip the man, causing him to land on his back on the asphalt. It was not a blow meant to cause severe damage; it simply knocked the wind out of him and, more importantly, it made him shut up.

He resumed his place by the bar entrance in the unlikely case the drunk man was able to get up and try to make his way back in. Nikandros, who was standing guard inside, struggled to hide a laugh in the flashing lights of the club; no doubt Damen would be teased mercilessly when they got back to headquarters. That he, Damianos, who was once set to inherit his father’s elite protection and surveillance company, was now doing the most menial of bouncer jobs was a source of endless teasing back at headquarters.

He didn’t take it personally.

Most of the men teased him in an attempt to spur him into action, to take back his rightful place in the company. But Kastor must have had a reason to order him to this, and he did not want to let his older brother down. Also, the job was boring but it was easy: mostly just throwing out people too inebriated to understand boundaries. And Damen was well suited to that.

His was a form that inspired a wave of fear or a wave of safety depending on the situation. He stood at a colossal six and half feet tall and years of military and athletic training had given him a musculature much unseen outside of special operatives and professional athletes. He could disarm a man with a single limb, use almost any object as a weapon, and employ a number of other tasks that effectively made him one of the best personal guards on the market and the obvious choice as a successor of the company that hired him and his men out.

But only two months ago, after his father had been hospitalized, his half brother Kastor had convinced their board of directors to instate him as head of the company in Damen’s stead. Then---for unknown reasons---he had relegated Damen and his friends down to the lowest level entry positions, despite their expert skills. They should have been personal bodyguards to the highest-ranking men in the city, but instead they had been forced to follow their friend. Damen had felt that slight more acutely than any other.

“I’m amazed you didn’t send him flying.” Nikandros commented as he drove Damen and their other associate Pallas back to headquarters a few hours later.

It was just now dawn and the very hem of the sky was a swirling mixture of pink, lavender, and pale blue. However, none of them felt even the slightest bit tired, despite having stayed up all night long in a pulsing nightclub. It was part of the job, to be able to survive on minimal amounts of sleep.

“Murder was not in the job description,” Damen replied lightly from the passenger’s seat. “I would hate to get a complaint about our services.” The fact that they were working at said club showed that they were on thin ice to begin with.

Their glossy black sedan pulled into the lowest level basement parking lot and the three men walked to the stairs with a quick step.

Their training as bodyguards made them extremely distrustful of parking garages, even when it was their own, and they avoided elevators on whole. Even though six flights of stairs was not a warm welcome after a full night’s work, it was better than risking your chances in a slow, tiny box of death. They were always on the alert.

Grunts worked in the first basement level of the building and Damen could not suppress a little regret when he saw the golden lion emblem of the company--- _his_ company---logo emblazoned on the glass door. But, like his exhaustion, he pushed it aside in his mind and walked in to greet his comrades.

At this time of morning on a weekend, things were usually dead as most entry-level gigs were overnight and his comrades would just now be getting off the payroll. They would come in to present their work slip as a timesheet and then run off to bed before returning late in the afternoon for the next round of jobs. Only two people were actually there before Damen’s group: Lydos and Aktis.

The two of them perked up the moment he came into view.

“Boss, thank god you’re back---“

“Did you expect me not to come back?” Damen interrupted laughingly as he removed his heavy black jacket. “And I told you guys before: don’t call me boss. I’m not the boss of anything at the moment.”

“You don’t understand.” Lydos began again looking quite harried. “When we got back, there was---“

Now the group was concerned; it took a lot to make people in Damen’s faction so anxious. Nikandros pressed a hand to his hip, where he could snap open the holster of his gun in a breath. “What’s wrong with you two? You look like you’ve got ants up your ass…” Had the building been compromised?

Aktis was more to the point. “There’s a job here. He was here waiting for us---well, no---waiting for Damen. He’s waiting for you in there.” As he pointed to the tiny conference room, Aktis seemed almost shell-shocked, which was highly unusual for men of his caliber.

Damen’s interest was piqued. “Is it another bar job? Concert? No, wait, will I have to detail at a strip club?” The sarcasm was lost on them.

Lydos shook his head quickly. “I think you should go in there and talk to him. This job is probably going to be more…like the old stuff.”

Nikandros looked like he wanted to offer to accompany Damen into the room, but Damen held up one hand. He was confident in his skills; he had a handgun wedged firmly in the waistband of his trousers, a taser at his hip, and a knife in his right boot. If it were a job, he’d be more than willing to listen but would probably send it up to corporate if it was so important. Mostly he was curious over what kind of person had managed to rattle his friends.

Damen entered the room as quiet as humanly possible so he could gauge the client, but his stealth was for naught. The largest, nicest leather chair in the room had been purposefully moved to face the door so that the occupant of said chair would notice the moment anyone came in the room.

Damen froze in shock and his ‘client’ smiled sardonically.

He recognized the man in front of him. It was his old friend, his recent ‘enemy’, Auguste. He had not been so close to him in at least six years, and they had not been friends in ten, but Damen would recognize him anywhere.

Auguste’s father, Aleron, owned an enormous business conglomerate in the city and, up until Damen and Auguste were fourteen, Aleron had regularly called on the services of Theomedes’ company as bodyguards. But their fathers had had a falling out and Damen and Auguste had not spoken since. Indeed they had spent the time cultivating a vague dislike for one another.

Where Damen was dark of skin and hair with a boxer’s physique, Auguste was golden and fair. His long hair was slicked back into an elegant ponytail that somehow suited his angular features, and his body was long and lean and looked excellent in his tailor-made suits---today’s suit a three piece black and white with thin gray pinstripes on the vest. He was incredibly handsome though he looked arrogant with having caught Damen off-guard and for having his dress shoes up on the table.

When they had been friends Auguste had been funny, energetic, intelligent, and polished and he and Damen had spent many boring adult functions coming up with their own amusements. Unfortunately, Damen could feel his father’s prejudices beginning to cloud his memories and he could find few vestiges of his old friend in this stone-cold man in his conference room.

“Long time no see, Damianos.” He remarked in an almost disinterested tone.

Damen gritted his teeth over the use of his full name. “Auguste. What do you want?”

Auguste leveled him with an ice blue gaze. “If this is how you treat potential clients, I find it no small wonder that your brother has pushed you down here to the basement to take beginners’ work.” Auguste had always been clever and well spoken but apparently in their time apart he had developed the poisonous quality of an adder.

Damen was furious. “Well then I don’t see why you’re here. If you consider this operation beneath your attention then by all means: get the fuck out.”

He opened the door and actually considered tossing Auguste out himself. Though they were close in height Damen was definitely the stronger of the two of them. Auguste’s eyes narrowed for only a moment.

“Oh sit down. You and I both know you’re not meant to be here.”

Damen hesitantly took the chair directly opposite Auguste. “Why are you here Auguste?”

For a moment, Auguste looked truly torn. Like he wanted to up and bolt from the room without saying another word. “I need…I need to hire a bodyguard.” He seemed to hate the words as they burst out of him. “I want the absolute best for it and so…” his lips twisted in distaste at the roundabout compliment, “I came here to find you.” Auguste then crossed his arms as if the matter was settled.

Damen was flabbergasted.

When he finally composed his thoughts it was hard for him to decide which question he should begin with. “Why? Why me? Why not go up to the main office and request someone? Are you mocking me?”

Auguste rolled his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Everyone says you gave up your company without a fight, but for someone who gave this operation up, you certainly are touchy. No, I’m not mocking you; I’m here because I’m taking this quite seriously. It has to be you. The squabble between our fathers has created the unfortunate side effect in that I am effectively disbarred from outright hiring a guard from your company. I cannot waltz into the main office without being thrown out on my ass.” Damen had to admit that his description would have probably been just what would have happened. “I am here because I know no one is giving you any meaningful work for your skill set and, what’s more, your half brother thinks because you gave up to his whims so willingly he does not even need to keep tabs on you.”

His words flowed fast and hot as lava, causing Damen to think that this was a highly personal matter to Auguste. However, he paused and calmed himself.

Gently, Auguste rested his elbows on the table and folded his fingers together, very businesslike. “I trust you with this because I know you and yours have not had any contact with my family in years. This job is to be an absolute secret and you must accept it before I give you any of the particulars. What I can tell you is that this job will last at least one month, it will be a round the clock protection gig and I will pay you, in gold right now.”

As if to drive the point home, Auguste pulled a briefcase up from off the floor and slid it across the desk to Damen with considerable effort.

As he clicked it open, Damen sucked in breath at the telltale glow of gold. Set in the satin interior of the briefcase were three inch-thick bars of solid gold stamped with the starburst crest of Auguste’s company.

“I don’t need your gold.” Damen said distastefully. Did Auguste truly think he could be bought with this? Damen was not so hard up for cash.

Auguste’s eyes glinted. “I’ll give you that… _and_ I can guarantee your reinstatement back into the upper levels of your company.” He did not elaborate on how he would do such a thing, but every man had his price and Auguste had found Damen’s.

“How can you possibly give that back to me?” Damen scoffed.

“Because,” Auguste’s voice was low and dangerous, “there is someone in my company who is in league with your brother to undermine you and your father…I have proof enough to discredit Kastor.”

“Give me a moment.” Damen said, feeling electrocuted as he sat back down.

He had to consider; his men would keep the secret but if Kastor found out he were taking side jobs then any consideration for the reinstatement in the upper echelon in his company would be tossed out the window and he would not have job unless his father regained his health. There was also the suspicion of Auguste. Was Auguste working together with Kastor to displace him? And without knowing the particulars, who knew if he could be roped into something illicit and be framed later on? Could he trust this man, a man he did not consider a friend, to keep his word? There were so many possible outcomes that could end poorly for him but…

It was Auguste’s expression that arrested him.

He was known for being beguiling, never letting anyone know his true thoughts on matters of business. But for this meeting there was a distinct edge to him. He looked like a man desperate, like if Damen refused he would have no other option to fall back upon.

It was a personal and desperate matter and Damen was curious and empathetic. And he was also tired of doing these menial guard jobs; he wanted something exciting and challenging and more suitable for his experience.

After only a few moments of deliberation, he took the briefcase onto his lap and all of the tension in Auguste dissipated. He sighed in relief before composing himself again.

“What the hell, I accept. But, if I find out you’re doing this on Kastor’s orders…I swear, I’ll make it my personal vendetta against you.”

Auguste looked surprised as he stood to shake Damen’s hand and seal the bargain. “I don’t know where you would have come up with such a plot. Of all your family members, your half brother is the one I find most distasteful.”

When the two of them emerged from the conference room, Nikandros and Pallas looked horrified when they recognized their guest. He smiled as he greeted them, though the smile was more out of delight at their horror more than happiness to see them. Without offering any explanation, he turned on his heel began to make his way to the parking garage.

“Damen, I’ll be waiting in the car. We’ll discuss the details on the way over. Gentlemen,” And then he was gone in a flash of blond hair.

Damen was absolutely mobbed as he retrieved his jacket and essentials bag from where he had placed them in his locker. The gold bars in the briefcase he would take with him and figure out what to do with them later. It was hard to think over the sound of his loyal friends protesting his decision.

“Why on earth is Auguste coming here?” Pallas was the least angry but the most shocked. “Surely he can’t have anything to do with us…”

Nikandros was distrustful. “Damen you cannot possibly think to trust this man. You know what a set of vipers he and his family are. He’s going to betray you, I can feel it. Your father would---.”

“My father,” Damen’s voice was a little flinty as his father was a touchy subject at the moment, “currently has no say in his own company. You all have been telling me I--- _we_ deserve better than what Kastor has saddled us with.”

“But with _Auguste_?” Lydos responded. “How can you be sure he won’t sell you out?”

“He won’t,” Damen shook his head, “He’s desperate and he needs help, even though he hides the need very well. It’s done. I’m going to do it and see what happens. Perhaps fate, even delivered by viper, can be fortuitous for me…”

The men became somewhat sobered when they realized his mind was made up, but Nikandros had one last inquiry. “What is it exactly that he’s asking you to do?”

Damen shouldered his heavy pack. Inside was everything he could possibly need for a mission: gloves, a satellite phone, a GPS tracker, mace, a bulletproof vest, and a number of standard issue weapons that someone in administration had forgotten to confiscate from him upon his demotion.

“I have no idea honestly. All I know is that it’s a month-long guarding contract so you can rest easy at night knowing I won’t be running drugs or murdering the populace. I swear, I will be fine. If this goes well…” He shook his head, leaving the words unspoken but they all knew what he was going to say.

Maybe if he did this job well, he would be restored back to favor.

Nikandros nodded though the others did not look convinced. “If you’ve made up your mind, I won’t try to stop you. But let us know if you need help. We’ll be your eyes and ears and cover for you here.”

Damen clapped him on the shoulder. “God willing, I’ll get us out of this basement.”

There was a luxury sedan parked and running on the first level of the parking garage and a man in a suit was waiting patient and stone-faced against the passenger door. Silently, he opened the back door at Damen’s approach and Damen slid into the back seat next to Auguste. Auguste did not even look up at Damen’s entrance but kept his eyes on the open manila folder on his lap.

“Thank you, Jord,” Auguste said absentmindedly flipping through a few documents in the huge stack, “If you’ll take us to the north side.”

The car moved swift and silent out of the parking garage.

“Jord is your bodyguard?” Damen inquired lightly when no one else seemed inclined to make conversation. He was pleased that the car had dark-tinted windows to keep out the glare of the half-risen yellow sun.

“My assistant.” Auguste replied curtly, once again without looking up from his papers. “You’re wondering why I don’t hire a guard from my own faction. It is because…I don't trust anyone around me right now.” Without touching or even looking at Damen, Auguste dropped the thick folder on Damen’s lap and began to explain the issue that had been bothering him so much that he was forced to turn to the son of his father’s enemy.

“You’ll find all the information you need in that folder; it’s the police dossier from one of my informants in the station. There’s someone in my father’s company who has been stalking and assaulting young men. That is why I cannot hire a guard from my own company, because even Jord up there could potentially be the one…” Though Auguste smiled as if he did not believe Jord was actually the one responsible. “So since you have not had any contact with my family or company in years I can safely assume you are not my suspect.”

“I had no idea you were in training to become an amateur detective.” Damen said sarcastically as he inspected the novel-thick folder.

Auguste finally leveled him with a glare. “I have no choice. This predator is now stalking my younger brother and I intend to keep him safe until I discover who is behind these attacks.”

Now Damen had his answer as to whom he was guarding. He vaguely remembered Auguste having a younger brother---five years younger than the both of them, to be exact---but he had barely spent any time with the child when he and Auguste could play together. He couldn’t even remember the kid’s name. All he could remember was a shock of hair, more white than blond.

“So I am to guard your brother then?”

“At all hours.”

“Is…he aware of this fact?” Damen asked with all delicacy. If he were anything like Auguste, then Damen assumed the younger brother would be none too pleased to have him around at all hours. Sure enough, Auguste’s expression took on a shadow of discomfort.

“No…actually. I had brought it up to him in the past but he seemed… _slightly_ opposed.” ‘ _Liar_ ’, Damen thought, “Even so, he will have to get used to this arrangement for his own sake.” Auguste had a fierce set to his jaw that hinted he and his younger brother had engaged in an icy stalemate over the matter. He was beginning to dread having to deal with someone so stubborn.

“I only hope he doesn’t try to constantly escape from me…” He did not like the idea of playing hide and seek with a brat.

Auguste pointedly looked out the window, giving Damen a view of what was---sadly---a fine profile; it was a shame he was so handsome but so poisonous. “I think…he is nervous, though he will not admit it out loud…even to me. You shouldn’t worry about him running away.”

Damen decided to look at the dossier when he had more time to study it thoroughly.

“Don’t worry about trying to figure out who is behind this.” Auguste noted that he had not begun reading. “I’ll handle that. But just read the files to make sure whoever is behind this can’t get within ten feet of my brother.”

Auguste filled him in on a few more particulars, gave him a key to his brother’s apartment, and then inquired as to what was in Damen’s black duffel bag.

Damen smiled, filled with vindication. “You have your secrets; this one is mine.”

Auguste shrugged.

Workers were just now beginning to populate the streets---the newspaper deliveries, the baristas for coffee shops, and the early morning commuters---as Jord pulled off the exit into the north side of the city near campus. He parked next to the curb of an attractive brownstone building on one of the quieter streets.

Damen thought that this building was certainly a far cry from normal student housing, but Auguste’s brother definitely had the funds to pay rent on such a fancy place even though he was still a college student.

His trained eyes noted that there was a buzzer and a passcode on the door for added security, but the fire escape was in pristine condition and connected to every single floor. Also the main method of moving up or down floors was a vintage, mirrored elevator. He grimaced; he would need to do a full canvas of the building to assess weak points and entrance points. It would have to wait till later, as he did not trust his evaluations on so little sleep.

Auguste neatly typed in the four-number PIN and seemed surprised as Damen balked at getting in the elevator.

“Do you have claustrophobia?” He asked, his mouth twisting into what was about to be a mocking smile. It untwisted when Damen made his own counterpoint.

“Best hope no one on your brother’s floor wants to shoot us. There’s nowhere to hide here.”

Of course Auguste’s brother lived in one of two apartments on the top floor, but it was a small blessing in that it would be harder to reach from the fire escape. Auguste knocked lightly before allowing Damen to slide the key in and unlock the door.

It was very modern and industrial inside the apartment, what with its’ high ceilings, polished wood floors, exposed brick walls, and minimalist décor. In fact, if not for a very few personal touches, such as the open laptop on the table and the stack of school books on the kitchen counter, Damen would have thought it was a showroom for an apartment. Everything from the blanket over the couch to the glass bowl of fruit looked staged and everything was impeccably clean.

Damen dropped his bag on the table, grinning as some papers fluttered to the floor, ruining the sterility of it all. Auguste simply pulled up a chair and waited.

It didn’t take long for the brother to appear.

Damen heard him first, the step light as if he walked on his toes, and when he rounded the corner Damen felt as though all the air had left the room. Though he was jaded about some aspects of humanity and kept a hard rule about his work---one rule being he did _not_ date clients---he could not change his own nature.

And he felt attraction quick and easy, which was the feeling he was having now.

The young man in front of him was probably about twenty and he was the most gorgeous human Damen had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.

Like his brother, he had fair coloring and longer hair but his hair only fell a little past his shoulders and it was nearly white-blond silk, a color Damen didn’t see much of past childhood. His eyes were deep blue, ringed by thick blond lashes and his face had a sort of delicacy to it, so that he almost appeared androgynous. His limbs were long without being ungainly, his skin was so fine and pale Damen could see the webs of pale blue veins pumping beneath the ivory. He wore only a white pajama shirt that hung loose and baggy to his knees and strangely had no creases or wrinkles.

If his friends back at the company could have seen this kid, they would have teased Damen endlessly because they knew his type. And this young man, Auguste’s younger brother, was as if all of his dreams had coalesced into one person’s appearance.

Like he was under a curse, Damen could not bear to look away from the beauty in front of him.

He pulled up short, heels squeaking against the wood floors, as he caught sight of Damen. For a moment, he looked poised to run, his weight lifting to the balls of his feet, a pulse clearly visible in his long neck. But then he composed himself and a look of beautiful contempt saturated his fine face.

“Brother…Auguste…what is all this?”

Auguste only spared him a glance and then appeared to be very interested in the cuticles of his right hand. “Good morning sunshine. Damen,” Auguste seemed not to have noticed that Damen was frozen in awe, “this is my brother, Laurent.” His name sounded like a song.

“Laurent, this is Damianos.” Laurent must have recognized the name because a look of absolute horror dawned on his pretty face. “He’s your new bodyguard.”

 


	2. Day 1: The Predator in the File

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But SteeleStingray, you might ask, it's only been 4 days well....couldn't wait any longer ahaha! I finished the next chapter VERY quickly and also it's kind of in memory of my other recently completed story which is no longer on the first page of results. I'll miss it being there...  
> This chapter...like I said be sure you're aware of the tags/TW when you go in this because it's a little dark. In other news, Laurent is being a cast-iron bitch and Damen just does not even care. What a starry-eyed fool :)

** Day 1: The Predator in the File **

Damen had the decency to remove his black work boots before he sat on Laurent’s white couch to peruse the police file Auguste had given him. It was now nine a.m. and Auguste had returned to his company…but not until after a long and heated debate he had had with his younger brother.

Damen had waited patiently in the kitchen, thoughtfully munching on an apple while listening to the brothers verbally spar in Laurent’s bedroom. Amazingly, despite his whip-quick mind and silver tongue, it seemed as though Auguste was losing ground against his brother. Truly, Laurent was a force to be reckoned with, as Auguste was known for making grown men who had committed errors nearly weep from his upbraiding.

But in the end, Auguste had won out and returned to the main living area, looking flushed but pleased.

“I’ll keep in touch,” He offered to Damen, “Remember. Don’t let him be alone and I’ll get you your company back.” Then with a flash of his golden ponytail, Auguste was out the door without a second glance. Beautiful Laurent had not reappeared so Damen decided to let him pout and look over the file Auguste had left him with.

He heard the shower start as he spread out the papers on the glass coffee table.

Three victims thus far, three victims of stalking and rape, and Damen had to hand it to the stalker: he certainly had gorgeous men in his sights. All three were lovely males even in the obvious distress they had been in when their photos had been taken and his gut flamed with the fury over what had been done to them…over what was planned for Laurent…

The first victim was a rent boy and the youngest, at only fifteen. He looked decidedly bitchy, more furious than upset, but it didn’t mask his extreme beauty: a long elegant neck, glossy chestnut hair, lips like fruit and his pale aquamarine eyes glowered at whomever was taking the photo. He looked like a young model, save his expression, and Damen’s mouth danced over the name at the top of the form:

‘ _Nicaise_ ,’

Damen read on. This Nicaise had been under the employ of someone _very_ high up in the family company (though the police were wise enough not to name anyone in particular) and the stalking had begun shortly thereafter. He claimed to have been leaving his employer late one night to go back to the shop when he had been pulled into a parked van and sexually assaulted. He could not describe his attacker, as it was dark outside and in the van. Since it was a very affluent area, there were no eyewitnesses out so late.

As the first victim, the police had merely written it off as a one-time incident and they probably considered rent boys as obvious targets---which Damen thought would explain the fury on the boy’s face.

The next one the police took a bit more seriously because the young man in question was the eighteen year-old son of one of the major shareholders in the family company. His name was Aimeric.

He had a peachy sort of prettiness to him: hair and eyes like chocolate with a pink flush under his skin that was only made more prominent by his obvious shame when his photo had been taken for police records. He had reported the stalking beginning soon after his graduation from high school. Damen was furious but he forced himself to read on.

Poor Aimeric had been at company party with his father and older brothers when he felt a little off; he mentioned in the report that he had been drinking a little so both Damen and the police came to the conclusion that one of his drinks had probably been spiked. On his way to an exit for some fresh air, Aimeric stated that he had been pulled into an empty conference room and raped. Once again Aimeric had been unable to see his attacker due to the darkness and the drug, and no one heard a thing since the room was so remote.

It was Auguste’s assistant, Jord, who had found Aimeric collapsed in a hallway and by that time the perpetrator would have had ample time to escape.

By the third victim, Damen was seeing a theme.

The most recent victim was also lovely: curly blondish-brown hair, amber eyes, and an achingly sweet face marred by his trauma. It was clear from his photo that he was on the verge of sobbing.

Named Erasmus, he was nineteen years old and a former rent boy but was now the fiancée of one of the company’s most important business associates: Torveld. The stalking had begun almost immediately after the rape of Aimeric, and Damen guessed that the monster behind these attacks had seen Erasmus while he was with Torveld at the company party.

It was here Damen and the police could see that the attacker was moving up in age, boldness, and violence. For Erasmus had been attacked in his and Torveld’s apartment, tied and blindfolded…He looked so sweet, Damen hated to think of him being taken so brutally and discovered by his horrified lover. Now the focus was on Laurent and Auguste’s family was taking this very seriously; it was not good for clients and partners to fear for the safety of anyone remotely pretty.

And now Damen saw why he had been chosen: he and his would have never received an invite to that function.

Unable to stomach reading any more horrors, Damen shuffled the papers back together and placed them back into the folder. That someone would use their superior strength to commit such horrors…it was unfathomable to him. If he ever got his hands on this rapist, there would be hell to pay.

“I assume you’ve seen what’s coming for me.”

Damen twitched at the sound of that low, clear voice and he turned slowly so that he did not appear unduly excited. Laurent was leaning casually against his kitchen counter, his hair damp and disgust barely concealed on his face. Damen sincerely hoped that Laurent’s disgust was due to the contents of the police dossier and not his presence.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Damen was confident; he was the best at his job and he was beginning to feel fiercely protective of his newest ward. Not to mention…the attraction was also quite fierce.

Laurent scoffed as he pushed himself off of the counter. “I know who you are, Damianos.” Damen fought back a grimace at the sound of his full name. “I don’t want this but Auguste was insistent.”

Damen gave him a charming smile in hopes that it would annoy him. “I’m so small you won’t even notice I’m here.”

For a moment Laurent looked as though he wanted to smile, but he quickly returned to his look of vague disgust and turned on his heel. “You don’t even need to speak then. Just stay out of my way and I won’t have my brother fire you. I’m going to go get ready for my classes. Just…stay out of my room.”

What a caustic little thing he was, but Damen actually liked him more for it. He liked witty, tough people. “I’m sorry but no can do. I have to do a sweep of your rooms to make sure---.”

Laurent seemingly ignored him as he walked over to his door, but his expression was livid as he gripped the handle. “I said, _stay out_.”

As he slammed the door shut, Damen was filled with a mix of professional annoyance and admiration for the fresh, snotty attitude of Laurent. Where Auguste had sort of a cool dismissal of Damen, Laurent seemed intent to fight back. But it did present a problem; it had been two weeks since the stalking had begun in earnest and that had given the man in question a head start on mapping Laurent’s schedule and habits. In all honesty, he was probably already aware of Damen’s presence. Also Damen was forced to presume that Torveld---as a man of thirty and a chairman in his own company---had a much nicer apartment with much better security even than Laurent’s. So there was a chance this apartment had been compromised and Damen wanted to make sure everything was bolted down in case of future invasions.

He debated for a moment on whether or not to ignore the orders, but decided to go with his gut. He intended to do a thorough sweep of Laurent’s room.

However, as he steeled himself for what was sure to be a fierce debate, the door was opened and he was dazed by the smell of fresh linen and just a hint of expensive cologne. Laurent stood before him, expression sharp and clad all in black…absolutely gorgeous. He raised one eyebrow.

“I’m off to class. Are you to follow me there as well?”

He still seemed disgruntled by Damen’s presence but there was an edge of silk to his tone; it sounded almost triumphant, almost like…like he knew Damen would be forced to go with him and would be unable to check the room. Crafty little bitch…

Damen peered over Laurent’s thin shoulder into the unknown interior of the bedroom but ultimately decided to lose this particular battle.

He shrugged. “We’ll discuss your room later. As for class, yes, I will be following you there. Your brother hired me to be with you twenty-four hours,” Laurent’s lip curled in distaste at the thought, “so I’ll be within sight most of our time together. Except when you’re in the restroom or taking a shower…”

“We’ll see about that.” Laurent responded, making sure he bumped Damen hard with his shoulder as he passed. It had all the effect of a butterfly wing pushing a stone wall. Damen smiled.

After observing Laurent’s daily schedule, Damen could understand Auguste’s concern.

It was almost astonishing that Laurent had not been snatched up until this point, or maybe it was his own arrogance, his misplaced confidence that if he didn’t appear scared then he wouldn’t be targeted. He walked to the college campus---a ten minute commute---and his uppity neighborhood was largely empty now that everyone had left for work so there would be no help in case of an attack. But Laurent walked fearlessly through narrow lanes and parks with hiding spots galore. For a moment, Damen wondered if Laurent had no sense of self-preservation.

Laurent made no attempt to explain the arrangement to his professors, so that fell on Damen’s shoulders. And though some of them looked as though they wanted to argue, they couldn’t very well throw Damen out. When they heard who he was guarding they just shrugged and allowed him to sit in silence by the door.

Normally he would have been bored by such an endeavor, but luckily his client was not some graying executive. A handsome young student was no chore to watch.

Damen’s job on this first day---as on any of his guard jobs---was to observe and memorize everything he possibly could about his client’s routine, acquaintances, and personality and thus far not much had surprised him about Laurent.

Though he was by and large the most attractive and intelligent person in each one of his classes, people treated him with a nervous sort of deference and he appeared to have no particularly close friends. He did his work alone, ate lunch alone, and when he went to the library---which he did for three and a half hours---it was in a secluded corner on his own. So Damen got the distinct impression that Laurent had a lot of self-confidence, was very smart and very focused, but lonely and more thoughtful than outgoing.

This was also not ideal.

It would have been better to have him surrounded by a group of trusted friends. Surely his stalker would know his habits while he was at school.

“You leave school so late?” Laurent had made no effort for conversation throughout the day to make his displeasure felt and Damen only had a few small inquiries. He was largely unsettled by the fact that Laurent had waited until twilight to leave the campus.

“I leave when I’m ready to leave.” Laurent responded coldly.

Damen decided not to argue with someone so set in their ways and remained silent and alert until they returned to the brownstone. As they entered the main lobby, Damen could not help but notice that Laurent glanced furtively at the wall of silver mailboxes on the left wall, though he smoothed his expression a moment later.

Damen moved swiftly as Laurent buzzed for the elevator, his key twisting in the mailbox before Laurent even realize what he was up to. Damen had the letters in his hand and felt Laurent trying to snatch them, but he blocked him easily.

“Damianos, _don’t_ \---.”

Along with the normal bills and loose advertisements, there were four pages of torn yellow notepad paper with scrawled handwriting written haphazardly across the lines. Damen skimmed the ramblings and it revealed to be exactly as he thought. It was obviously the stalker describing to Laurent in detail what he had been doing that day and Damen noticed, with wry amusement, that his presence had been detected and he was now referred to as ‘that giant bastard’ or ‘your fucking guard dog’. Clearly he was not pleased.

The thing that worried him most was one of the last few lines that read: ‘ _We were so close too…Only a few more days and I would have had you…but now I’ll have to plan again. I’ll find a way; you can’t hide from this even though you think you’re so smart, pretty little slut’._

Auguste got him truly in the nick of time; if these could be trusted then Laurent had been in immediate danger.

Damen turned back to face Laurent, whose cheeks were mottled in a mix of fury and embarrassment but he had given up on trying to wrest the pages from Damen’s hands. His dark blue eyes were freezing in their glaring regard of him and his nails were digging into the fabric of his shirt as though he longed to dig them into Damen’s face.

“I hope you know,” His clear voice was the winter wind in sharpness, “that reading someone else’s mail is a federal offense.”

“How long have you been receiving these?” Damen asked gently. Despite the fact that Laurent now looked wary and dangerous as a feral cat, it was probably due as much to fear as it was to annoyance. “Does Auguste know?”

Laurent saw his chance and, with surprising speed, ripped the pages from Damen’s hands. He shredded them methodically and let them rain down on the marble floors in a shower of yellow flakes.

“Of course he knows.” Laurent’s voice was now cold and matter-of-fact. “As do the police…and my father…and you. But little good it does any of us,” he sighed and curled a lock of his hair behind his ear, “as the mailman doesn’t carry them in. The security camera picks up no trace of this person putting them in my letterbox and even when we watch it all day long…no one. They appear as if by magic and so now,” he nudged the small yellow pile with the toe of his shoe, “I just shred them without a thought.”

Damen secretly thought that shredding the pages wouldn’t solve his problem, but Laurent was probably very well aware of the fact. The elevator dinged behind them.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you know?” Damen liked him even more now. Of course he was beautiful, but he had quite a bit of courage in the face of such an ordeal. He was tough.

“If you do then you are a poor bodyguard.” Laurent replied.

Laurent’s silence in the elevator gave Damen a moment to mull things over. The stalker must know what the combination was to get into Laurent’s building or---even worse---he had someone who worked in the building helping him.

His second suspicion was almost confirmed as they reentered the apartment and Damen caught sight of something on the counter that had not been there when they had left. He nearly knocked the wind out of Laurent as he thrust his arm out, catching Laurent in the upper chest.

“ _Oof!_ What the _hell_ is your problem?”

“Laurent,” Damen was on edge and already had his hand on his holster, “it looks like there’s something on your counter. Like a bag. It might be…” He didn’t want to say what he thought it was.

He jumped as Laurent scoffed and elbowed him hard in the side. “You fucking idiot; are you really the type to be spooked by my groceries?” He slapped the light switch on the wall and Damen finally saw that the shape was of three full grocery bags slumped against each other on the granite countertops. Laurent breezed past, leaving his bag on the chair, but Damen was still concerned.

“How…how did they get here?”

“The maid, of course.” Laurent replied easily, rustling through them.

“And she has the key…How many people have a key to your apartment?”

“Is it a habit of yours to worry incessantly?” Laurent teased without mirth.

“It’s part of my job.” Damen replied tartly.

“It’s going to make you lose your hair. And to answer your question,” Laurent methodically removed a package of heirloom tomatoes and a small bag of endives, “I have one, as do you, Auguste, the maid, and the landlord of this building. If you’d like to check the security of my kitchen appliances, now is the time.”

Damen gritted his teeth and ignored the jab. Honestly, he thought only he and Laurent needed a key but he’d sooner be able to regain business negotiations with Laurent’s father, as stubborn as those brothers were.

“No, but I would like to inspect your room as well as ask where I’ll be sleeping during my time here.”

Laurent’s glare could cut through glass. “You can check the windows and doors. _That’s it_.”

Damen sighed. He wondered why Laurent was so adamant he stay out of the bedroom, but the young man was secretive by nature and Damen was in no mood to argue. Though he would he would have preferred to do a full canvas and make sure nothing sinister had been put inside, he decided to just do a shallow inspection and perhaps sneak in later to do a deeper search.

Laurent hovered over his shoulder at all times as Damen took in the view from his bedroom window and inspected the latches on his frosted bathroom window. Everything was immaculately clean, even in the bathroom.

After Damen finished his inspection, he turned to face Laurent. Laurent appeared calm and cool with his arms crossed defensively, but Damen could see his pulse pumping rapidly in his neck. He was nervous and Damen was overcome with the irrational urge to hold him and stroke his long, blond hair but the hellcat would probably scratch his eyes out.

“Is everything to your standards?”

“Yes, yes. The window is secure so long as you keep it locked and the doors will stand an assault until I can come rescue you.” He added the last bit only to see Laurent’s expression and he was not let down. Laurent’s lip twitched in something like a snarl.

“I’ll be sure to scream like a maiden; now kindly get out.”

Damen obliged and turned his attention to his own accommodations as Laurent shut the door to his own bedroom securely behind him. “I assume I’ll be sleeping in your spare bedroom?” He indicated to the door across the hall from Laurent’s room.

“I assumed most guards in your company slept at the foot of the bed.” Laurent replied and Damen could not help but laugh at his tone. “As for that room…there is a small issue. I am not used to or prepared for guests in my apartment. In fact I actively discourage visitors.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Damen made sure his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Laurent pushed the door to the extra bedroom open and Damen looked inside with a great deal of amazement. Any furniture to indicate that it had been a bedroom had been removed and replaced with bookshelves. And despite the face that the bookcases covered all available wall space but the windows and the door, each shelf was jam-packed with volumes. The only other furniture was a large couch and coffee table, which took up most of the center of the room.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Laurent said, not sounding sorry in the least, “even if there was a bed in here, I doubt it would be able to fit your mammoth frame. Do you happen to have a sleeping bag in that duffel of yours?”

Damen did not dignify his question with a response. “The couch it is then.”

To be fair, the couch in the living room suited him just fine. Besides being large enough to fit his frame, it also put him close enough to the front door so that no one could enter without waking him up. He just considered it a necessary sacrifice to get his company back and protect his pretty, prickly client.

Figuring that Laurent would not like him causing mayhem in the kitchen, Damen located the spare bathroom he would use during the month---though he longed to see the horror and irritation on Laurent’s face if he used the master bathroom---and began to check the main rooms for hidden microphones or cameras. Laurent pointedly ignored him as he went about cooking his dinner.

When Damen could find nothing suspicious, he relented in his inspection and vowed to get some proper security measures in place while Laurent was sufficiently distracted.

He had been so deep in thought that Laurent’s clear voice startled him out of a haze.

“I assume, since you are on Auguste’s payroll, he is the one responsible for providing you with food?”

Damen rolled his eyes; he knew he was lenient on Laurent’s icy remarks due to his extreme good looks, but Damen drew the line at not being fed. “No, no, that falls directly on your tiny shoulders,” he smiled as he heard the knife chop a little harder than usual at that comment, “but since you didn’t know today, I’ll order out and leave you with---what are you making again?” By this time he had rounded the corner to the kitchen and had fallen under Laurent’s annoyed, frozen glare again.

He held the large knife aloft and his smile had no warmth, so he looked like a horror villain. “Braised endives. From now on, if you want anything, write it on the list on the fridge so the maid can buy it…or starve for all I care.” He followed this by heartlessly halving one of the endives.

Damen was not intimidated.

He let Laurent continue to slice as he ordered from a local Greek eatery and then spent an enjoyable twenty minutes watching white cheeks flush under the heat of the stove. This food order would give him an excuse to test his own skill for this job.

When he received the alert on his phone that the delivery was in the lobby, he casually mentioned it to Laurent and---after receiving no response---leisurely exited the room. However, as soon as he was in the hallway, he took off at full sprint. Ignoring the elevator, he practically ripped open the stairwell door and took the flights two or three strides at a time. Damen raced down five floors in a record minute and terrified the delivery boy as he burst into the lobby without even breathing heavy.

He paid and tipped, smiling as he accepted the food, and then began to run again. Though it took him approximately fifteen seconds longer than going down, Damen felt confident that he could come to Laurent’s aid even if they were five floors apart.

Laurent jumped a little as Damen reentered, but then cooled himself. “That was fast.”

Then Laurent treated Damen to the most silent and awkward dinner of his entire life, which was truly an astonishing feat considering how many boring and silent company dinners Damen had been forced to endure in the past. Without even glancing at Damen, Laurent filled a tiny plate with his endives and scallops in some sort of wine sauce, opened a book and proceeded to read as he ate.

Damen quite literally had three times the food that Laurent did and he ate with much less dignity. However, due to the lack of stimulating conversation, he spent most of the time messaging his friends back at headquarters.

Though he left out any particulars that could incriminate them, should he get caught, Damen waxed poetic about how lovely and difficult his newest client was.

‘Do you think you can cover me for the thirty days?’ He typed.

‘Of course,’ Nikandros always answered with blazing speed, ‘and let us know if you need any help. Your client sounds like a handful…’

‘If you need us to cover a shift, let us know.’ Pallas assured him, though Damen knew he wouldn’t drag any of them into this. In all likelihood, Laurent would tear them to pieces. However, there was one thing they could help him with…

‘It’s not for me, but can you ask around at some of the rent places for a kid named ‘Nicaise’? I’d like to talk to him about my job.’

Immediately there was a slew of messages from his friends sarcastically implying that of course he was interested in a ‘job’ from some rent boy. But he could hardly tell them the whole story along with the fact that the police had not taken any of Nicaise’s contact information in a massive oversight. Maybe one of the clubs or bars or shops they guarded would have more information.

‘I SWEAR TO GOD, IT’S FOR THIS JOB!’ He typed furiously when the teasing continued.

Finally he elicited a promise from the four of them to look into finding Nicaise so that Damen could question him about the stalking incident. By the time he had done so, Laurent had managed to finish his paltry meal and had shut his book. He cleared his place and inserted his plate into the dishwasher in complete silence while Damen watched the graceful curve of his neck.

“Are you turning in for the night?” Damen asked in surprise as Laurent began to walk to his room.

Laurent paused but he did not look behind him. “I suppose, yes, you’ll not see me for the rest of the night. Try not to make too much noise.” He could hardly expect a sweet good night from this acidic young man.

“Shout if you need anything.” Damen acknowledged.

“I’ll shout if you make too much noise.” Laurent responded and continued on his way. The last Damen heard of him was the door slamming shut and the lock clicking behind him. It was a shame he didn’t trust Damen, as it really made the guard-client relationship easier, but in his current situation he could hardly be blamed.

Damen finished up his dinner while continuing to surf aimlessly on his phone and he deposited the empty cartons into the trashcan. It did not bother him to play house in someone else’s apartment, as he had done it so often in the past to build up a level of trust and comfort with his client. And he personally liked the spartan, minimalistic way of living, though his apartment had a few more personal touches and a bachelor feel to it.

He did another sweep of the main area, just to make sure there were no microphones or cameras and the place came up clean. Damen still refused to trust the integrity of the apartment, however, and he began to come with a list of things he needed to do in the coming days.

He needed to check the ‘library’ and the spare bathroom and Laurent’s room.

He needed to find this kid, Nicaise, and ask him some questions.

If he could talk with the other two victims as well, that would be ideal…

He needed to get clothes from his apartment.

There were so many things he need to do but right now what he needed most was sleep. Damen had not slept in over 24 hours---since before his bouncer gig---and he needed the refresh before dealing with Laurent’s attitude tomorrow. It came with the job that Damen could also fall asleep anywhere, provided he had a flat surface that would fit his bulk.

He turned off the lights and removed his black jacket, pants, and socks leaving him in a simple tank top and his boxer briefs before collapsing onto the white sofa. It really was a comfortable piece of furniture…

Damen felt himself falling asleep within seconds and secretly hoped that his dreams that evening would be visited by a lithe young man with cream-sweet skin and a very kissable nape.


	3. Day 2: The Cast-Iron Bitch on the 5th Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you read more chapters, you'll see a common phrase Damen repeats over and over to (hopefully) give Laurent a feeling of safety. I unashamedly borrowed this idea from one of the greatest movies of all time, The Princess Bride. I'm sure you guys will see it after a few times.  
> This chapter gets VERY upsetting for Laurent (so TW!!!) but at least Auguste's deliberate annoying Damen is the bright spot. They will punch each other one of these days. And next chapter Damen's gonna get all dressed up! Get hype and enjoy!

** Day 2: The Cast-Iron Bitch on the 5th Floor **

Damen must have been more exhausted than he realized, for his sleep was deep and dreamless and it lasted until morning when his phone buzzed next to his head. He lazily opened one eye and nearly sat up when he saw the time. For a moment there was a flash of panic as he saw that it was Saturday morning; usually at this time on the weekend he would be finishing up a job in a bar or nightclub. Had he slept through his alarm?

But no, when he took in his surroundings in the early morning light and saw who was messaging him, it all came back to him. He took in the sparse apartment and the fact that Auguste was contacting him and remembered that he was in Laurent’s apartment.

The apartment was just beginning to lighten with the early morning sun and it was almost eerily quiet.

Damen ignored the message and leapt easily to his feet. He stretched his body to its’ entire impressive height, feeling his shoulders pop and begin to flood with warmth of movement. Quietly, so as not to wake Laurent, Damen padded over to the fridge in search of food. Due to his musculature and constant activity, he was always in the mood to eat.

Laurent’s refrigerator was just as infuriating as its’ owner: yielding little more than vegetables, plain yogurt and about a hundred different types of sauces. At least he had a proper jug of milk. Damen debated for a moment whether or not to drink straight from the carton as he did at home, but he decided not to risk Laurent’s wrath and poured himself a glass.

As he set down the glass, there was a small sound behind him like a feather falling or a whisper of a breeze, and when he turned Laurent was watching him with something akin to a glare. Damen could add silent approaches to his already formidable set of skills.

Damen felt a bead of milk trickle out of the corner of his mouth and down his throat as he smiled. It really was amazing how Laurent could wake up and look just as polished as he had upon going to bed.

Holding aloft the empty glass, Damen inclined his head respectfully. “Good morning. Where shall I put this?”

“Throw it away for all I care,” Laurent responded dismissively.

He brushed past Damen to prepare his own breakfast and Damen could now understand Laurent’s slim figure; with his diet, it was a wonder that he had any muscle at all. Still he accommodated Laurent and moved aside.

“What will we be doing today?”

Laurent did not respond as he ripped off a yogurt lid and prepared to pour granola in the cup. Damen shrugged and prepared to go off to shower. “Well…if you decide on our schedule, let me know after I finish my shower.”

Silence again, but Damen---ever sunny---did not let it bother him. He scooped up his bag and phone and headed into the spare bathroom.

He checked his phone and cursed aloud: four missed calls.

The unknown number was redialed and Damen stripped as he impatiently waited for the call to connect. There was a click of connection as Damen turned on the water and a languid, arrogant voice filled the echoing bathroom:

“Hello, Damianos.”

“How did you get my number, Auguste?” Damen did little to conceal his irritation.

“I have my sources,” Auguste replied silkily.

“What do you want?”

Damen entered the hot shower as Auguste began to speak. In typical fashion of his family, he spoke in a very roundabout way and Damen largely ignored him until Auguste gave him a straightforward question.

“How do you find the apartment? And my brother?” His voice sounded smug; he probably knew the pain his brother was capable of causing.

Damen did not want to give him the satisfaction so he decided to keep it strictly professional. “The apartment is secure, from what he has allowed me to see of it. He refused to allow me to check his bedroom or his bathroom so I’m unsure of the integrity of those places,” he half-expected Auguste to groan or assure him that the proper steps would be taken to allow him a search, but there was only a short silence on the other end of the line, “As for your brother…he is intelligent and thoughtful, though he seems to have no sense of the danger he is in.”

That was the most diplomatic description Damen could manage and Auguste seemed to notice. His voice had a hint of his serpentine smile.

“Now you can see why I called you in. Find a way to sweep his room; I didn’t pay for an amateur’s work.” Auguste tone was steely on his insistence.

“I’m well aware.” Damen snapped back. He much preferred Laurent’s stonehearted silence to Auguste being a demanding asshole. Only the promise of his position at his company could allow him to put up with Auguste.

“That’s all I wanted…Oh! And I you’ll need to buy a suit for tomorrow.”

Damen dropped the bar of soap, the request was so abrupt. “Wha—What? Why? I have a suit.”

“No, a _nice_ suit.” Auguste remedied as if he was speaking to a child.

“It _is_ a nice suit!” Damen snarled, longing to hurl the soap at Auguste’s head.

“I fucking doubt it.” Auguste scoffed over the speaker. “You and yours were never much for dressing sharp at these kinds of business functions. Buy a proper _tailored_ suit and put it on my tab, though it will probably be a fortune in fabric to cover someone so giant. Laurent should be going in today for a fitting and you can get yours done as well. Hopefully you’ll be able to blend in to the background, but even so…try to stay out of sight of my father.” Then, without leaving room for argument or question, Auguste ended the call. Pretentious bastard…

Damen longed to throttle him but he focused on what little information he had been given.

Apparently, there was to be some sort of business function he and Laurent were to attend in the near future and it was most certainly going to plunge him into enemy territory. Now he was beginning to wonder if Nikandros was right and Auguste was going to throw him to the wolves…

If anything, he would cut his losses and leave. Laurent’s pretty face did not trump Damen’s company.

He finished washing and wandered out of the bathroom in little more than his boxer briefs to retrieve the spare set of clothes from his duffel bag. Laurent, perhaps in anticipation of Damen’s near-nakedness, was sitting at the table with his back to Damen as he flipped carelessly through a glossy travel magazine.

“You know I can hear you two through the walls? Conspiring…”

Damen had to suppress a snort of laughter at the cool fury in Laurent’s tone. He did not like people dictating the finer details of his life. “Believe me when I say, if I never talked to your brother again, my life would be all the more wonderful. But I don’t ask questions; he employed me so I follow the orders.” He pulled on a tight fitted black T-Shirt, “I hear we’re going to get suits tailored today?”

Laurent sighed lightly. “Yes. There is a party on Sunday evening with our board members and business partners. My attendance is mandatory so…apparently is yours.”

Damen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nervous?” Laurent asked, for once sounding a little pleased.

‘ _I will be attending a party thrown by the enemy of my father and therefore surrounded by people who hate me and wish to see me fail in all aspects of life?_ ’ Damen thought as he slid on his pants. No, nervous didn’t quite cover it…

“More that I cannot wait to spend more time with your older brother.” He made his voice as deadpan as possible.

“Such is the burden that falls on our shoulders,” Laurent responded, the faint schadenfreude happiness gone from his voice as he got to his feet, “to mingle with those who seek our downfall.”

Damen felt a twinge of regret then over his vocal annoyance. For as important as his company was to him and as much a risk he was taking to go to this soiree, for Laurent it was probably worse. Because, in all probability, the man who was stalking and threatening to rape him would be at the party and Laurent would have to smile through it all.

They wouldn’t touch this little bitch, Damen vowed to himself, anger in his gut.

 

The elderly tailor exclusively employed by Laurent’s family and associates was indeed an expert, but the moment he caught sight of Damen’s enormous frame he very nearly dropped his measuring tape. When he did go about taking Damen’s measurements, it was with a grim set to his mouth as though he was taking Damen’s size as a personal challenge. He murmured in concentration as he pinned and measured and Damen joked with him about the obvious difficulty of finding clothes that fit properly. Laurent ignored them in favor of his book.

When it was Damen’s turn to step down, the tailor had actually broken a sweat, but his eyes were burning with the prospect of a challenge. “So help me god, I’ll have your two-piece finished before tomorrow afternoon.”

Damen lightly patted the man on the shoulder, taking extra care not to break fragile bones as he stepped down from the raised dais.

“Young Laurent,” gnarled fingers beckoned and Laurent shut his book, “your turn. Just some small adjustments?” Laurent nodded and began to disrobe though he shot Damen furtive glances before he removed each piece of clothing. Odd, but he must have been uncomfortable being so exposed. Damen turned away just in case and began to inspect the tiny shop.

Tucked unobtrusively on a high floor shop of the elite business district, it was a gem of a little shop: warm, quiet, and elegant. Rows of dark jackets, vests, and pants hung in wooden alcoves and the scarcity of price tags hinted at the craftsmanship and exclusivity of such a shop.

When Damen had finished looking around, Laurent had finished being measured and was back in his street clothes. It was a bit of a shame, but he would see Laurent dressed up the next day.

They thanked the tailor and exited out of the building in search of lunch.

Damen---under the situation of having a client who was being stalked---disliked the crowds in this district, even though they were light on the weekend. He stayed within a step of Laurent at all times and kept close watch.

Laurent, for all his bravado, must have felt the pressure as well because he looked a little whiter than usual, his blue eyes hard and shiny.

“You look a little pale.” Damen commented, reaching his wrist for Laurent’s temple. “Are you feeling---?”

With speed Damen would have never expected from Laurent, his hand was smacked away and Laurent had whirled on him. Damen stopped abruptly. Laurent’s posture and expression were smooth and relaxed but his eyes looked nearly crazed with something deep and instinctive. He looked like a feral animal.

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

Damen raised both hands defensively and shrugged, but he was a little shocked. It was rare to see someone in this family lose their cool. Apparently Laurent’s loss was upon being touched.

When he realized that Damen was not going to press forward and he took a few heated breaths, Laurent calmed down and averted his eyes. Then he continued walking without any explanation or apology and Damen had no choice but to follow with only his thoughts as company.

Laurent seemed to regain even more of his composure over a late lunch---if it could even be called that---of gazpacho and a small cobb salad. Damen secretly thought that he would have to start feeding the young man meat before he wasted away to skin and bone.

“You certainly are fond of vegetables.” Damen noted.

Laurent was engrossed in his book as he ate, which was perhaps why he was caught off-guard and gave an honest answer to Damen’s question. “If not I’ll get si---.” And then he caught himself and glared at Damen over his book.

Damen felt his brow furrow. Laurent could not eat heavy meals without getting sick? He must be even more nervous than he let on. “Laurent…our families may not get along but…” normally he would attempt a pat on the shoulder or a quick squeeze of the hand, but Laurent would hate it, “it is my _job_ to protect you. I take my jobs very seriously and I won’t let anyone get you.”

Surprisingly, Damen felt that he meant it.

Maybe it was that he didn’t hold the same prejudice as he held for Auguste and their father. Some was the promise of the return of his company. A lot was due to the fact that he hated people who preyed on those weaker than them. A great deal was because Laurent was so lovely…but he truly meant those words.

“It’s your job to protect me.” Laurent repeated and his eyes were flat. “But you don’t need to speak in order to do so.”

Damen was shocked to silence.

He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He was too thick-skinned and these cold lashes had to have a purpose. Besides, he couldn’t hate the person he had been hired to protect. Damen shook off the insult and continued on with his own lunch as Laurent requested: without speaking.

They finished eating in silence, Laurent ducked into the bookstore, and they walked back to Laurent’s brownstone without speaking again. Normally Damen walked a step behind his client, but now they were shoulder-to-shoulder as Damen remembered that it was now past three P.M. The mail would have come by now.

Laurent probably also had the same idea because he stopped at the door, blocking Damen from standing there. Then he glanced over at the PIN pad and up at Damen, an order unspoken on his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Damen sighed trying not to sound brusque, “did you want me to open the door?”

Laurent looked at him as though he was a fool. “Quite obviously as you are standing right next to the keypad. Or is that too strenuous for you?” What a challenge he was…

Damen gave in and typed in the numbered code, allowing Laurent to smoothly rip open the door and dart inside. He was already unlocking his mailbox by the time Damen entered the lobby. It looked like today any evidence of the stalker would be left in a shredded pile on the entryway floor and Damen would be lost as to what might have been planned. Or…so he thought.

The moment Laurent opened the tiny brass door of his mailbox, tiny, glossy squares poured out of the box and onto the floor into a pile at Laurent’s feet. Laurent was frozen as he looked at them.

With the speed he reserved for emergencies, Damen moved so that his body effectively blocked Laurent from sight of the elevator, stairwell, and the front door. It was only after he had shielded Laurent that Damen inspected the latest ‘mail’. There was simply no way for Laurent to rip them all to pieces and he didn't seem of the mindset to do so anyway.

Damen picked one square up and it was just as he had suspected. They were photos.

Most disturbing was that they were photos from that very day, photos from the tailor…shot by shot photos of Laurent undressing down to his boxer briefs. It was so very invasive, it shocked and angered Damen to his core.

Though he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t imagined such a lovely young man unclothed, it wasn’t right to look at such pictures…pictures used without Laurent’s consent. Damen only took a few and flipped them over to the back where he could see scrawled red handwriting. His fury only increased.

Depending upon the state of undress Laurent was in on the photo, the back contained a detailed description of what was intended.

The words swam red---in more ways than one---as Damen read in snippets from the ramblings on the photos in his hands: _rip your clothes off…pretty white skin…can’t wait to crack you open…slut...you can’t hide from me…_

Damen had to pace his breaths to calm down and not shred the photos himself. He would not wish this evil on his worst enemy, not on the enemy of his father.

Laurent was still very motionless, his body rigid, face calm, but eyes glassy and unseeing. He was also very, very white.

With a great sigh, Damen began to move robotically.

He gently plucked the bookstore bag from Laurent’s clenched hand and removed the book. Then he began to scoop the photos into the empty bag until the floor and the mailbox were cleared and the bag was bulging with the security camera photos of Laurent. Then he herded---never touched---Laurent into the elevator, all of it done in silence. Damen once again blocked Laurent completely behind him in the elevator; if anyone were to ambush them, they would get the full brunt of Damen’s body. As furious as he was, he was not going to let anyone _see_ this kid.

Damen guided him into the apartment. In his familiar place, Laurent began to thaw out, tossing his keys carelessly on the table, but placing his book carefully on the countertop. Without explanation, Laurent walked to his bedroom and slammed the door. Damen heard the water rushing through the pipes in the walls and he honestly would not be surprised if it was to mask the sound of the gazpacho and salad ending up in the toilet bowl.

On the thought of worst enemies, Damen reluctantly removed his phone and dialed Auguste. It went to voicemail three times before Auguste finally picked up.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” His voice was smug, the vengeful bastard. “To not have someone answer their phone immediately?”

All of Damen’s pent-up anger and frustration had found an outlet. He struggled to keep his tone civil and hushed. “You rotten bastard! When I call you it’s because there’s _fucking_ emergency, so shut the fuck up and listen! This stalker got a hold of the security footage at your family’s tailor; he sent hundreds of pictures over of…of Laurent undressing.” There was a sound like a crack on the other side of the line. “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with these photos? I don’t want…” He couldn’t say that he wanted to spare Laurent from seeing them again, “I don’t want Laurent to tear them apart if they’ll be important for the investigation.”

Damen was breathing heavy by the end of his rant and Auguste was oddly silent on the other end. At least now Damen knew another key to shutting him up.

When Auguste spoke again, Damen could hear murder in his voice. “I’m coming over.” Then there was a click and the line went dead.

With some residual anger, Damen tossed his phone into the couch. Normally his job was to protect rich, elderly men from assassination attempts and it was a very cold and impersonal arrangement. This…this went against everything good and upright and moral in his mind. It was an assault on his personal core beliefs.

The water had stopped running at this point so Damen decided to get his mind off his anger and try to attend to Laurent. Laurent would undoubtedly reject his overtures, but he would try.

He filled a tall glass with sparkling water and rapped his knuckles lightly on the door to the bedroom. There was no answer.

He opened the door, just a crack, so that he could place the glass on a desk or a bureau and, as he was on his way out, the bathroom door opened and steam poured out into the bedroom. Damen looked.

Laurent was clothed but his pale hair was dripping wet. He glared when he caught sight of Damen, but Damen was getting used to it.

“ _Get out_.”

“As you can see I’m on my way out,” Damen did not avert his gaze. “I brought you water. You should drink it…for your stomach…”

Laurent’s lip curled as he regarded the glass. “My stomach? My stomach is fine.” So he hadn’t been vomiting then. Laurent rubbed absentmindedly at his left arm and his sleeve slid up a little. Damen was alarmed; the skin beneath his clothing looked as though it had been scalded, bright pink, with deep red scratches that created a latticework on that normally smooth, pale expanse.

Then the fabric covered it up and Damen was only left with his unease. The steam and his skin apparently showed that Laurent had not been vomiting but had attempted to boil himself in the shower. He ached to provide some comfort, but it wouldn’t be accepted. Instead…

“Drink it anyways. Do it or I’ll continue to speak to you.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed into slim, blue slits but he did not retort. Damen left him in peace and returned to the main living area.

Auguste showed up about fifteen minutes later.

He was in Damen’s face, snarling obscenities, the moment the door closed behind him. Damen tried to remain calm, tried to remember that Auguste was under pressure and needed an outlet for his anger, but it was difficult.

“Goddamn it, Damianos, I hired you to protect my brother and what do I have for it? A fucking sack of photographs! Give me a break! You didn’t check for security cameras, you didn’t sweep his room, you haven’t done anything! I should fucking fire your ass right now; give me a reason I shouldn’t!”

Damen gritted his teeth. He wanted so badly to punch Auguste, but he pretended that it was simply another drunken customer.

“Auguste I am not a hacker so I cannot very well disable security cameras. I also cannot--- _will_ not cause your brother more stress by invading his space while he is here. What I will do---as I was hired to---is prevent that man from touching Laurent in any way. Now get out of my face.”

He elbowed past Auguste to get his own drink of water after such an impassioned speech.

“I should fire you.”

“Then do it,” Damen sighed without even looking back. “Take the gold and the photos; they’re both on the couch. And I’ll go back to working nights at bars and clubs. Do it. Just say the word.”

He didn’t want it to end, honestly. He would probably end up staking out the brownstone in his free time because he was invested now. Damen did not want Laurent unprotected due to the stubbornness of his older brother.

Damen drank as he felt Auguste simmer down. The tension was unreal.

“Auguste.”

Laurent’s clear voice cut through the stalemate between his brother and his bodyguard. Damen did not turn around for fear of crystalline voice also ordering his dismissal. He didn’t think he could look at that beauty without an expression of obvious regret. The brothers were surprising, in more ways than one.

“You would think a full day at the company would have ceased your nagging.”

Damen choked a little bit on his water but neither one of them seemed to notice. Auguste’s voice was the gentlest Damen had ever heard it. “I will always nag for you, Laurent…” He must have caught sight of Laurent’s scalded skin, because he sucked in breath. “ _Again_?”

“Save your breath.”

They retired to Laurent’s room without addressing the status of Damen’s employment but, as he went to the living room, he got an implicit answer from the most surprising source. He smiled.

Sitting on the shelf closest to Laurent’s room was an empty glass that had once contained sparkling water. Laurent had taken his order and drank the water; he could see the lip prints on the rim as he took it into the kitchen.

A small victory, but he would take it.

 

Auguste left late in the evening after dinner and he took the bag of photos with him, holding the strings of the bag between his fingers as if the bag was filled with shit. Laurent was sitting on the couch reading his new book and he had made sure to wear a long-sleeved black shirt and pants to avoid showing what havoc he had wreaked on his skin. Damen was cleaning out his handgun on the other end of the expansive couch; he did it so often that usually it was an activity of mindless habit that allowed his mind to relax, but this evening something was nagging at him.

Careful not to place anything on the snow-white fabric, Damen set his gun down and took a deep sigh.

“Laurent.”

Laurent closed his book with a soft snap and seemed to gather every ounce of his patience. At least this time when he met Damen’s eyes, he was not glaring. Instead he just looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes. It too Damen took as an improvement.

“I have no interest in hearing what you are about to say. However, I know you will talk regardless of my wishes. Go on then. Spit it out so I can finish my book in peace.”

“I apologize for…for allowing you to be so…exposed today. I’ll not let it happen again, I promise.”

“For being an enemy of my family, for all you and my brother seem to hate each other, you certainly have no shame in bowing your head to me.” Laurent responded in what seemed like an effort to be callous. “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or suspicious. I tend to lean towards the latter in most situations.”

“I have no argument with you.” Damen replied. “My father cut off business ties with your company, which is nothing personal to me. Your brother…does his best to fire me up but that does nothing to change my opinion of you. I have no shame apologizing to a client.” He left it unsaid that he didn’t even remember Laurent existed up until two days ago.

“Words are cheap,” Laurent reopened his book, anticipating that the conversation was coming to a close, “I can talk to company investors if I want to hear hours of bullshit. Give me action and then I’ll believe that you’re sorry.”

“Laurent.”

Damen said it with such conviction that Laurent’s eyes flicked back up to him. They were undoubtedly the deepest blue he had ever seen, like the cold water between cracks of ice. They could arrest Damen and make him forget how to breathe, like he was actually drowning.

“I will say it as often as I need to: I’ll not let anyone touch you.”

Laurent simply frowned and shook his head, as if it wasn’t even worth the trouble to argue with him and went back to reading. Damen decided not to push Laurent’s ‘good’ mood and picked up his gun again. Only one lamp was lit in the main room so it became quite dark and still once the sun went down.

Damen had already reassembled his gun and had begun to check in with his friends back at headquarters when he realized how silent the room had truly become. As silently as he was able, Damen took in his surroundings.

Laurent was asleep.

When he was so relaxed like this he looked positively angelic, with his slim fingers still holding the place in his book. His long hair hung in his face and Damen itched to curl the errant strands behind his ear, but such an overture would probably result in his eyes being clawed out. And speaking of eyes…

Laurent’s were moving very rapidly under his eyelids in every direction. He must have been having a very intense dream indeed for his leg twitched occasionally and sometimes his brow would furrow in concentration or anger or worry.

Damen only glanced for a few seconds, as he didn’t make it a habit of watching people in their sleep.

He hoped it was a sign of burgeoning trust between the two of them, but more than likely Laurent was exhausted from the stress of the day. As a young man who was finicky about his preferences, it would probably be better if he were to sleep in his own bed. Tomorrow was likely to be stressful for the both of them.

Also, the couch was technically Damen’s bed and Laurent didn’t seem of the type to share. He would be furious if Damen so much as set foot in the bedroom but Damen would rather risk that fury than sleeping on the floor like a dog.

“Laurent,” he murmured it first simply to relish in the ability to say that musical name without it being accompanied by a sour expression. Then he said it a little louder in the intent of actually waking him this time around. “Laurent.”

Laurent did not stir although the crease between his brows did deepen.

“Laurent. Goddamn it, _Laurent._ ”

He had tried his best not to resort to prodding his clients awake, but Laurent did not show any intention of rousing himself. Damen forced himself to lightly touch Laurent’s shoulder---it was so delicate and cold; were people supposed to be so cold?---and shook him very, very gently.

Laurent was not bleary-eyed or dazed but surprisingly lucid as he woke up, his eyes wide and searching for…something in the darkness of the room. Unbidden, his free hand gripped Damen’s forearm, nails digging through the exposed skin, and Damen winced.

“He’s here?” The words came out a little slurred in comparison to his normal poise.

“Wha---What?” Damen was more unnerved than someone who was still waking up. “He? No, no one’s here; Auguste has gone home. You…you fell asleep. I thought you might like to go to bed.”

Laurent visibly deflated, the tension that had him coiled tight as a spring dissipating into his usual look of vague irritation. He massaged his temples and, for a moment, he looked quite haggard.

“Yes, yes. I’ll retire. I should hate to be roused _yet again_ from the comfort of sleep by your incessant talking.”

Damen released Laurent’s slim shoulder once the nails were removed from his flesh and he noted that Laurent rubbed the spot where his fingers had been. He cursed himself inwardly, recalling the scorched and scratched skin underneath that black shirt. He should have called louder…

He seemed not to dwell on the pain---if there was any---but got to his feet and rolled out his shoulders. White-blond hair spilled over his sleepy features, leaving Damen agape; it was amazing how, even annoyed, the young man could look like a living, breathing work of art. Damen leaned over the back of the couch to watch Laurent make it safely to his room.

“Laurent.” Damen called the moment he reached his bedroom door.

A muscle twitched in that fine jaw, but he looked back, his blue eyes sharp with disinterest over what Damen was going to bother him with this time. His fist clenched the doorknob.

“I’ll be out here all night long. I wake easily. And I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Laurent responded to this mantra, meant to be familiar and comforting, by striding through the threshold to his room and slamming the door shut behind him without saying a word.


	4. Day 3: The Man Made of Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Party time! I love my characters to get dressed up and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Damen is a sucker for Laurent in a suit ;) This is also a great time to introduce some 'new' characters to our line-up.  
> To be honest, one of my favorite characters in CP canon was my sweet baby Erasmus and I'm happy he's in this story now, as he and Torveld will help Damen quite a bit. Also...least favorites incoming...The Regent's job is kind of horrifying in this story, thinking of all the gross ways he can use it for his own benefit.  
> Finally, shoutout to the usage of Charls. Classic.

** Day 3: The Man Made of Honey **

Laurent appeared sleek and well rested upon waking up the following morning, but Damen was starting to think that he was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotional distress. Where a normal person would pace, unable to sleep, or zone out while doing activities, Laurent’s nervousness was almost imperceptible: a slight clench of his jaw or the way he carefully rubbed his right temple while he read. It was Damen’s job to watch and he watched carefully.

The maid did not shop for him on the weekends so the two of the ordered in lunch as they waited for their suits to be delivered in the afternoon. Once again, Laurent only had some grilled vegetables and a few crackers and Damen was again worried that he would waste away before the month was up.

Laurent twitched when the intercom buzzed, indicating a visitor in the lobby.

Damen was at the panel faster and found…Jord, stoic and patient, waiting outside the main door with two heavy garment bags slung over his shoulder. Upon entering the apartment, he also handed over two ID passes so that the two of them could move unmolested through the family offices.

“Charls?” Damen asked incredulously as he looked at his name on the ID card.

Jord did not seem to see the amusement in anything, as he remained impassive in the face of what Damen saw as highly amusing. Perhaps it was best to be discreet in his line of work.

“Auguste’s father has refused to lay eyes on you or your family members for years now and I doubt he would recognize you if you stood right in front of him. Though there may be others at the party who will recognize you just on your…extreme height. So please try to stay out of sight and if anyone does approach you…your name is Charls.”

“And who will you be going as?” Damen asked Laurent.

“Someone who actually enjoys these kinds of functions.” Laurent quipped expertly without looking up from whatever he was reading at the moment. Damen snorted at his joke but Jord did not crack.

“I’ll have a car sent over around quarter till six.” He responded. “Orlant will pick you up and take the both of you home when you so choose. Is there anything else you require from me, Laurent?”

“Will my uncle be there?” Laurent asked after a long pause.

“Yes.” Jord replied with a curt nod.

“I see,” Laurent’s voice had some emotion in it that Damen could not place, but then he was back to his trademark apathy. “That’s all I was wondering about. Tell Auguste I’ll see him tonight.” Jord took this as a cue to leave and nodded to the both of them before he turned to leave.

It was quiet a moment before Damen broached the subject he was curious about. “I wasn’t aware you had an uncle.” Damen’s father was an only child but if he had had a brother, no doubt they would have joint shares in the company. He did not recall anyone being in the same position as Aleron.

“Ah, yes, well my uncle…he is a stockholder in the company but he doesn’t have my father’s head for business. He prefers the complexity of the human mind so he has a psychology practice for the sons of the wealthy and powerful,” Though this seemed to be a fine accomplishment in Damen’s mind, Laurent described it all with thinly veiled scorn. “People wait months to have the _privilege_ of letting him pick the brains of their sons. I should know; my family sent me when I was younger.”

He must have been very passionate about the subject, because it was the most Damen had ever heard him speak in one sitting. “Your family was kind to send you to seek help.” He didn’t want to inquire as to Laurent’s past mental health though he found it odd that they sent him to a fellow family member.

“Kind?” Laurent’s face could have been made of stone for how little warmth it showed. “That is one way of putting it. Mostly my father wanted it to be discreet…wanted me to fix my…attitude…”

“How did that go?” Damen asked sarcastically.

“Exceedingly well,” Laurent responded, matching his tone. “Now please leave me in peace. I have to save up all my patience to deal with sycophants tonight.”

Damen obliged, as he too had to prepare himself for the evening. Though he could not bring his gun to such an event, he was going to bring his taser and the knife that was tucked into his boot, and his pass clearly stated that as a bodyguard he was allowed to bring such items onto the premises. Around four-thirty he went into shower and change into his suit.

He hated at any point to agree with Auguste, much less admit that Auguste had been right about something, but…

Damen looked at himself in the wide bathroom mirror and had to grudgingly admit that this was the nicest suit he had ever worn. It was a classic black number, which not only was spacious enough for his bulky muscles but also made his limbs look leaner in the smooth lines of fabric. The jacket was cut to emphasize the V-shape of his torso and the pants fit so well he wondered for a moment how many more pairs he could commission. More than anything else…he looked _damn_ fine, like the future heir to a business should look, and he swore the day he got his status back in his own company, he would walk in to meet his board of directors wearing this exact outfit.

He tried and failed to slick back his curly hair, only having it result in shiny black waves against the sides of his head. He tucked the taser into the pocket on the inner silk lining of his jacket and slide the knife into his dress sock.

With one last glance in the mirror and a minor adjustment to his watch, Damen felt he looked suave enough to blend in with the rest of the people in attendance.

He came out of the bathroom with a spring in his step though it didn’t last long.

Damen skidded to a halt first at the smell of fine, fresh cologne and then at the sight of Laurent in a suit. In the three days they had spent together, Damen would have guessed that Laurent owned nothing other than long sleeved black shirts and black slacks but this no longer seemed true, as he was now wearing a three-piece suit that was such a deep blue, it almost appeared black.

He looked slender and graceful and unaffected from where he sat on his couch, like he had been wearing suits this fine every day for all of his life. He looked like someone who could rule a room just by existing in it and Damen found himself almost wishing for Laurent to fix him with a stare.

Wish granted, Laurent flicked his eyes up and down Damen’s huge frame and newly polished appearance. His expression did not change as he looked away a split second later.

“Your appearance is adequate… _Charls_.”

Without glancing back to see Damen’s grimace at the name, Laurent held the ID badge aloft between his index and middle finger. Damen swiped it before coming to sit down next to Laurent and enjoy that fine cologne a little more.

“You shine up well yourself.” Damen commented for an excuse to gaze at Laurent again.

“Your opinions on fashion are always appreciated.”

An overt note of sarcasm, as always. Damen brushed it off. “I’ll post myself by the door when we arrive---I won’t be at your elbow constantly---and I’ll make an effort not to speak to anyone for longer than necessary,” Laurent looked pleased at the idea of his guard dog heeling. “ _However_ , I won’t let you set foot out of the main area without me by your side. I must have you within eyesight.”

Laurent looked like he was fighting every urge in his body not to argue, but finally an answer slid out of clenched teeth. “ _Fine_. Just this one time. It’s fine.”

“I won’t let anything harm you.” Damen promised in the low, soothing voice he reserved for comforting injured and frightened animals.

Laurent gave him a look like flint, but any protests died on his lips as the buzzer rang.

It was Orlant, another one of Auguste’s young and capable assistants, but unlike Jord’s apathetic efficiency, Orlant was sharp and attentive. He regarded Damen with an open measure of distrust, but he seemed to think better of mentioning anything, swallowed his complaints, and showed the two of them to where he had parked his car.

It was a silent ride to the company. Laurent was thoughtful by nature, Damen was nervous, and Orlant did not trust Damen, so none of them saw fit to start up a conversation.

The family company was located in the nicer part of the downtown business district only a ten minute walk from Damen’s company building. It took up the top twenty-seven floors of one of the luxury silver skyscrapers and the entire place just oozed an aura of wealth and power. Even so, a parking garage was a parking garage, no matter how clean and well-lit it was; Damen’s nervousness was only increased by having to shield Laurent in such a trap and then being confronted by an elevator. His palms were sweaty by the time they reached the main lobby.

Laurent’s father had apparently hired amateurs to staff security at this function.

There was a metal detector the three of them had to walk through and---of course, with the knife in his sock---Damen set it off. However, the lazy looking guards, who were a head shorter than him, took one look at his ID badge and waved him through without question. That would not have flown with Damen’s coworkers.

Still shaking his head, he joined Laurent in another elevator set for the top floor. This would be the location of the president’s office, the meeting room for the board of directors, and the lavish lounge where they held these cushy business events.

Laurent did not spare him a word of encouragement or warning as they walked towards the sound of voices.

It was a jewel of a room: all shimmering white marble floors, warm light, and a wall of nothing but windows so that the guests could get a breathtaking view of the city skyline and the few stars visible with all the light. The people inside were set to match their surroundings in tailored suits and elegant cocktail dresses, dripping with expensive jewelry, coated in expertly applied makeup. Auguste was among their numbers wearing dark gray and a smile, his long golden hair braided in a long tail down his back.

Handsome young men with black bow ties skipped around the room whilst expertly balancing silver trays of alcohol and finger foods and there was a low hum of conversation that made everything seem like a whirlwind of color and activity.

Damen was unused to such finery in his line of work.

He was distinctly out of his element and was more than pleased to remain posted by the only exit of the massive room while Laurent went out to mingle against his will. He was more than pleased to lean against the wall and eat whatever happened to pass by while he kept an eye on Laurent.

This Laurent was something he had never encountered before. Light on his feet, lovely, and engaging, each person in attendance seemed thrilled at the opportunity to talk with him. His wit was used to make associates smile or consider a new idea with genuine interest. There was a soft smile constantly on his lips, though Damen noticed that the happiness did not extend to his dark eyes.

It was almost like watching an expert actor create a pantomime of good humor, and the people were falling for Laurent’s skillful performance---annoyingly Damen noted---many men gazing at him long after he had left their presence.

Damen was essentially watching an entire room of people fall in love with Laurent.

Though Damen introduced himself to anyone who struck up conversation with him as Charls, and though he was purposefully vague when talking about who he was here with, he still ducked his head whenever Aleron, Laurent’s father, walked close to him.

Like his two sons, Aleron had a lean, intense appearance as if he was always calculating how to turn any situation to his advantage. He also had blue eyes and golden hair, though his was getting a silvery sheen with age. Once again, due to the prejudice of his own father, Damen felt an intense dislike for the man.

He was glad Aleron did not seem to want to converse with bodyguards who hid in the shadows and Damen was left mostly to his own devices.

On his fifth round of salmon pâté on crackers, Damen was vaguely aware of someone who had pressed up on the wall next to him. A single bead of cold sweat trickled down his nape as he glanced over to see who was close to him. He sincerely hoped it was not Aleron or Auguste…

Once he got a good look, his heart flipped over inside of his chest.

The person next to him wasn’t wearing a jacket---just a button down white shirt, a black tie and black pants---but it actually suited his light, slender figure. The simplicity of his outfit only served to highlight just how beautiful the wearer was.

He had a classically lovely face with curly golden-brown hair, smooth skin that had been tanned a little golden, and wide eyes in the most impossible shade of amber. His coloring was honeyed and Damen imagined he tasted just as sweet, but…in this setting he was obviously not of the upper crust and was, in all likelihood, here as someone’s date. It was strange, he looked…Damen swore he had seen this pretty young man somewhere before…

“Hello,” he introduced himself softly and noticed the man jumped as he was addressed. “My name is Da---Charls. Charls. This is my first time at this kind of event.”

The beauty smiled up at him, instantly relaxed. “Oh! Oh your first time? It…it is quite intense, isn’t it? My name is Erasmus.”

It came flooding back to Damen then. He had hardly recognized this young man as the same broken, sobbing mess in his police photograph. A second look confirmed; though the dark circles and tearstains were gone from his face, there was a look deep in his eyes of a wounded animal, a scar healed but not forgotten. Erasmus instantly lowered his head when he saw Damen’s recognition and his ears were positively crimson.

“I…I see y-you’ve…heard of…” His soft, stuttering voice had dwindled down into an ashamed whisper and he seemed unable to even state aloud.

Damen panicked. He hated the idea that his lack of concealing his thoughts could have caused this lovely young thing any distress. “No! No…Oh I know who you are and I am so sorry…I-I am the bodyguard for Laurent.” He motioned over to where Laurent was chatting amiably with a jovial man who looked to be in his late thirties. “I meant you no harm…I apologize…” He bowed his head low in the shame of his behavior.

There was an awkward silence until Damen found the courage to raise his head.

Erasmus had raised his elegant neck and was now looking at Damen with a gentle mix of curiosity and relief. The smile had reappeared on his lips and the world was all the lovelier for it. “Oh thank goodness. When my…l-lover mentioned that…that Auguste’s brother was…” Erasmus shook his head as if the pain was too much for him to even say it. “I h-had hoped something…would be done. A-and you look fearsome enough to defend him w-well.”

Damen was flushed by the compliment. “And your lover, is he in attendance today?”

“I promised to support him…a-as he supports me,” Erasmus flushed a most becoming shade of pink as he gestured to the man speaking with Laurent. “That is Torveld and i-if you would like…for your future work I-I could introduce you to him…”

Damen knew Torveld: the fourth son of a top-level media company was serving as associate under his older brother. He was in his late thirties but he was known to be an active, friendly man; though he and his had closer connections with Aleron’s company, he had been known to hire security from Theomedes on the down low.

“Wait, please!” Damen begged as Erasmus looked as he was about to call Torveld over in that moment. “I appreciate your kindness but…I-I lied.” Erasmus looked panicked for a moment until Damen began to explain, “My name isn’t Charls; it’s Damianos and I believe your Torveld already hires some protection from my family’s company.”

“Why…why Charls?”

“There are some people in this group who…have had a falling out with some of my business partners” (like the host of goddamn party, Damen left unspoken), “but since I am the best in the business and I refuse to let Laurent out of my sight, other arrangements had to be made so I could attend.”

Erasmus must have heard of Damen’s company when he mentioned the name, because his amber eyes became absolutely enormous. “Oh… _Oh_. I-I won’t tell anyone.”

Damen smiled indulgently. “You are very sweet and I thank you for thinking of my well-being. Torveld is lucky to have someone as strong as you by his side.” He delighted in Erasmus’ pleased blush and for a moment inwardly cursed Torveld for finding such a sweet, lovely young man in some rent shop. “I am pleased to have won your trust.” It seemed this Erasmus was still very trusting, despite his trauma, as he had not batted an eyelash at Damen’s story.

“I would… _remember_ someone as t-tall as you.” Erasmus joked lightly.

“I’ve always been told my dashing good looks are my most prominent feature.” Damen joked in return and was rewarded with a bell-like laugh.

“I…I am so pleased that…that someone as g-gentle as Laurent has you around. I-I am sure y-you put him at ease.”

Damen was struck; he liked Laurent’s sharp personality well enough, and he was intelligent, cunning and observant but… _gentle_? Erasmus must have been even more generous in his observations than Damen originally thought. Perhaps Erasmus had only ever encountered Laurent’s professional faux kindness, which was fully on display this evening.

He glanced back over to Laurent and by the felt warm protectiveness that rose in his gut. Though the young man was vicious, he did not deserve that horrible unease that must have plagued Erasmus so and Damen considered it a matter of personal and professional pride.

Words slipped low and intense from his mouth. “I swear…I won’t let anyone harm him…”

Erasmus nodded in agreement with Damen’s sentiment and the two of them spent the next ten minutes standing together in comfortable silence. Damen noticed that though Erasmus was at ease with him, whenever any man, including the servers, came close his right hand balled up into a fist. It must have soothed him to be close to someone who he knew would protect him until his lover was not distracted.

Erasmus perked up when Torveld motioned him forward but he paused, biting his full lower lip as he glanced up at Damen. He looked torn.

“I-I must go…but I th-thank you for your kind words t-to me and for…protecting people. I…I wish to help you in any way I can…”

“You don’t need to cause yourself pain on my behalf.” Damen assured him.

But Erasmus shook his head, the burnished curls bouncing. “I-I am not afraid…Please. Come to my _home_ ,” he said this with fierce pride, “and…and I will help you p-protect Laurent.” He took Damen’s large hands in his own slender, shaking ones. “P-Please Damianos.”

Faced with such a beauty, begging so sweetly and in such earnest, Damen’s resolve crumbled. “I understand. Yes, I will accept any information you can give me. Thank you.”

He exchanged his phone number with pretty Erasmus and let him go---not without regret--- to the arms of his lover who was looking with curiosity and a measure of concern into the shadows by the door. Torveld relaxed into a delighted smile when Erasmus bounded up to him and pressed his lean form in a line against Torveld’s side. Erasmus whispered something in his ear and Torveld looked intently toward Damen’s direction before nodding in assent.

It looked like Damen would be getting some valuable information in the coming days…

Erasmus was the singular bright spot in an otherwise dull evening. Damen counted himself lucky on four other counts: first, many of the young men and women---who may or may not have been rent boys and escorts---in attendance were not difficult to look at; second, he was used to standing immobile for hours on end; third, the food was delicious, free, and seemingly unending so he did not feel the acute pain of hunger and even began to feel full; fourth, Auguste did not speak to him or even look at him once the entire night. Not bad by most respects.

Laurent was also remarkably easy to keep an eye on, as he ate very little and drank even less. He did not make a single motion to leave and use the restroom. It appeared that what had happened to Aimeric---whom Damen could not pick out amongst the crowd---had actually affected Laurent’s actions.

Still, they stayed at the party until well past midnight and the crowds began to dwindle.

Damen was beginning to twitch anxiously as Aleron had fewer people to interact with and ran a very real chance of actually noticing Damen. Like magic, the familiar clean scent had him on alert, Pavlovian in his instinctive reaction to the stimulus. Laurent was at his elbow, the smile still on his face but brittle in comparison to sweetness of it at the beginning of the party.

“I am ready to leave, _Charls_.” He placed extra emphasis on the name probably solely to annoy Damen.

“I see you enjoyed yourself,” Damen replied and Laurent’s eyes flashed in what could only be described as ‘murderous rage’. Damen smiled to himself over that as he held open one of the doors for Laurent to pass through.

There were still a few people milling about in the hallways as Damen dutifully trotted behind Laurent on their way to the elevator. As they pressed the button for the lobby and the door began to close, there came an imperious call:

“Hold the elevator!”

Damen reacted instantaneously, vaguely aware of Laurent twitching in surprise, as he shot forward and slapped his dark palm securely against one of the gilded doors and wrenched it open. Two people stood expectantly behind the doors and breezed past him without a single word of thanks. Damen gritted his teeth and supposed he was going to have to get used to the conceit of these people.

As the doors shut, Damen moved back to Laurent’s side and inspected their new, rude companions.

One was an older, distinguished gentleman in a dark, perfect suit with a beautifully barbered beard and keen, watchful blue eyes. He had dark honey blond hair tinged with silver and…he actually bore quite a strong resemblance to Aleron…

The other could not have been mistaken for Aleron or an esteemed businessman by any stretch of the imagination. He was built like a bull: short, squat, and muscular underneath a generous layer of fat and his face had no warmth or beauty to it. His nose was square and pressed flat to his face almost as if someone had tried to punch it back into his skull and his eyes were shifty and pale gray in color. He also set himself apart from the present company by not wearing a suit, only a dark gray cotton shirt and black pants.

He radiated such a violent confidence and gave Damen such a dirty look that Damen instinctively inserted himself between the squat man and Laurent, who seemed very delicate by comparison.

It was silent for a good ten seconds before the older man smiled and spoke.

“Laurent.”

A muscle twitched in Laurent’s jaw. “Hello Uncle.”

Damen was no master of reading the atmosphere, but he could feel the tension rolling off of Laurent, hear the dead inflection of his voice, and see the way Laurent was rubbing his right temple. He was not at ease in the present company, but Damen chalked it up at the moment to familial discord and decided to keep his mouth shut at the risk of embarrassing or infuriating Laurent.

Instead, all he did was briefly brush up against Laurent’s side to assure him wordlessly: _I won’t let anyone harm you_.

“You look well,” Laurent’s Uncle had one of those soothing, syrupy voices that drew people in and made him a compelling speaker. “I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to your… _friend_.” He smiled with minimal mirth, a staple in this family, apparently. It chilled Damen.

For in that moment, he had the horrible feeling that this man, Laurent’s uncle, knew _exactly_ who he was and why he was there. Those blue eyes pierced through all the lies and deception and saw things as they truly were and Damen was exposed before it. But he kept a straight face and didn’t speak.

“Ah,” Laurent waved his hand dismissively as if his enormous companion had slipped his mind, “this is Charls. One from Auguste’s contingent.”

“Hmmm, I see,” It was a precarious game these two were playing and it seemed as though neither one of them trusted the other. Damen could not imagine how therapy sessions had gone with these two crafty vipers, “I had not recognized him. Amazing…how a man of such stature escaped my notice.”

“Perhaps you should buy glasses,” Laurent suggested lightly and Damen had to make a conscious effort not to laugh aloud. “Besides…he’s new. I insisted upon that.”

“Ah yes…your little _problem_.” Laurent’s uncle chuckled and Damen though for a moment that he was making light of a very horrible situation but then again perhaps he prescribed to that old-school mindset that men could not be victims of stalking. “My offer still stands if you would like to desist in bothering your older brother _again_ with your problems…”

There was a moment of pained silence and Damen decided he could not stand the two men next to him.

Laurent was smiling down at the ground, as if he was mulling over the ridiculousness of his Uncle’s drastic statements. But Damen had the distinct feeling that Laurent was extremely uncomfortable. He did not exude any of his trademark confidence and it was unsettling to see. And what was all this about troubling Auguste again?

When Laurent looked up again he was staring straight ahead and his expression could only be described as vindictive bliss. The smile at the corner of his mouth was absolutely cruel.

“I don’t worry about troubling Auguste. Older brothers shield the younger ones…of course, you know that all too well.”

There was a soft inhale, like a gasp, though Damen did not see who exactly was aghast at Laurent’s pronouncement. Damen felt as though he was missing some very crucial information but he could not dwell on it any longer as the elevator stopped and opened up to the lobby floor.

Laurent and his uncle were both smiling at each other, false and serpentine, and no one seemed to be making a move to leave the elevator.

Laurent’s uncle broke the spell first, giving a light chuckle and striding forward without looking at either Damen or Laurent. “All that time…for naught. You still refuse to admit your own weakness.” And with one final grimace, the ugly person beside him trotted off as well and Damen had never been so pleased to rid himself of someone’s company. He would rather live with Auguste in one room than entertain another conversation with Laurent’s uncle and his…manservant?

After a deep breath, Laurent also composed himself and walked out of the elevator, his face as impassive as a stone wall. Damen felt it would be imprudent of him to speak of what had just happened so he waited until they were sitting in silence in the back of the car with Orlant at the wheel.

Surprisingly, it was Laurent who decided to speak first. “What do you think of my uncle?”

Damen thought for a moment, still somewhat shell-shocked from the encounter. “I think…he has a poor choice in men…assuming the man next to him was a lover.”

Laurent, for a moment, was caught completely off guard. Whatever he had expected Damen to say, this was not it, and his mouth hung slightly agape in astonishment. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth and began to laugh.

Damen was shocked as Laurent rocked with laughter, helpless laughter, doubled over gasping for breath.

“My…my _god_!” Laurent wheezed, “My uncle…with _Govart_? Hahahaha! How…how could such a thing…be?”

Damen, emboldened by this rare laughter, pushed on. “Perhaps you were right in your recommendation of glasses?” Apparently his humor was spot on or Laurent was just off-kilter tonight because it sent Laurent through another wave of giggles. Even Orlant seemed shocked by this development, looking back in his rearview mirror a few times.

“I am undone…” Laurent finally gasped when the laughter subsided, and he sank limp into the fine leather of the backseat. “My god…must be tired…No. Govart is not my uncle’s lover. He’s my uncle’s bodyguard.” Laurent did seem to be exhausted as he leaned back on the headrest, exposed his long white neck.

“But…he’s not part of your family company. I mean, you said he isn’t actively involved. Why would he need a guard?”

Laurent’s eyes were closed and Damen caught glimpses of his fine profile every time they passed under a streetlight. He looked tired. Angelic, but tired. When he spoke, it was almost in a whisper, perhaps so Orlant couldn't hear. “My uncle…has received threats from…people. My father dealt with it before it affected the image of the family and the company but…he hired Govart as a buffer.”

And what a buffer he was. Though Damen was confident he could beat the man, he was elite and most normal people were not.

“For someone whose family considers me an enemy…you certainly are trusting me with some very… _delicate_ issues.” He was amazed that Laurent had spoken him so much that day.

“And you talk a lot for someone who all I beg of is silence.” Laurent responded without opening his eyes. “Now you answer one of my questions. What did you have to say to Erasmus?”

“That my name was Charls and I meant him no harm.” Damen replied and Laurent did not press any further.

When they got back to the apartment, Laurent only glanced at the mailbox and seemed to just brush it off. He was tired. Damen also did not touch the box and followed Laurent into yet another elevator. Laurent stared glassy-eyed at the floor of the elevator and Damen wondered if he was going to fall asleep where he stood.

He made it somehow and Damen heard him shut the door to his room without saying goodnight as he stripped off his suit down to his boxer briefs. He flicked off the lights to the main room as he compiled a list of things to do in his mind. One thing he desperately needed were clean clothes.

Maybe he would ask Pallas or Nikandros to cover him for an hour or two while he ran home to get some fresh clothes and find a place to stash the gold bars…

His mind was made up when he checked his phone and saw the message from an unknown number:

‘Hello Damianos. It’s Erasmus. May we talk tomorrow?’

Damen responded in the affirmative and then asked Nikandros if he would be available from ten am to noon the next day while Laurent would be in class. An easy gig, paired with Nikandros’ loyalty pretty much guaranteed his assent. As Erasmus sent his address, Damen began to feel his eyes get heavy with exhaustion.

Only one thing jolted him out of his sleep, about an hour later, as he heard a shutting door and footsteps.

“Laurent?” He called groggily, forcing himself to sit up.

It was Laurent in his long sleeping shirt, frozen with his hand on the knob of his door. He looked surprised to see Damen awake but then again…it could have just been dark. Damen looked him up and down to see if anything was amiss but his mind was still a bit addled by dreams.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yes.” Laurent replied, his voice untouched by any sounds of sleep.

“Ok…” Damen replied, feeling at ease. As he lay back down on the couch, it never occurred to him to ask why Laurent was up in the middle of night but sleep reclaimed him before he even hit the cushions of the sofa. The rest of the night he was haunted by dreams of Laurent slipping away into the darkness.


	5. Day 4: The Moment of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weekend here started so well but now my phone is not holding charge so I'm having a bit of a stressful night. To compensate, I'm going to get some joy out of giving you guys a new chapter!  
> Have I mentioned I love Erasmus? I love Erasmus; especially in the novels when Damen meets him again and he's grown a backbone :) He's very much like that in this chapter what with therapy and Torveld's loving! My bebe is so precious and pure and good. In other news from this chapter (which you all probably know already): Nikandros is going to go prematurely gray and Damen FUCKING LOVES CATS.  
> Some of you guys knew that Laurent was going to do this at some point in the story; hope I came through with the angst. Poor Nikandros...

** Day 4: The Moment of Fear **

Damen woke up in a semi-cold sweat, unable to recall what exactly he had been dreaming about. It must have been something quite intense because it appeared as though he had engaged the blankets and pillows in a wrestling match in the middle of the night. Some pillows had been kicked across the room and the blanket was woven securely around his legs. The sun was barely up but Damen knew Nikandros would arrive with the next hour and a half so that he could walk with Laurent to campus.

When Laurent roused himself for breakfast, Damen noticed that even though he was unruffled and as haughty as usual, he still had an underlying sharpness to him and dark circles under his eyes. Damen wondered if he was sleeping all right…he should really be eating more substantial foods too…

He twisted his lips; he was beginning to think like his own grandmother.

“Laurent, I have something to tell you.” Damen broached the subject over his own breakfast of lox and bagels. Laurent himself had a single piece of toast with avocado on it.

“Starting off the day annoyingly, as per the usual.” Laurent sighed.

“I’m being serious.” Damen insisted. “I am out of clean clothes and…I have an appointment. I need two hours to run to my apartment and meet with my client. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Hmmm…” Laurent acknowledged him while chewing but without looking up. “Four days and you are already seeking escape. I understand.”

“ _LAURENT_.” Damen groaned wanting to slam his fist on the table. He half expected this though. “Two hours is all I ask and I will be back by your side. And I won’t be leaving you alone. One of my associates will be here within the hour to guard you for those two hours. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll not speak for the rest of the day when we return.”

Laurent’s eyes flicked up and for a moment Damen thought he saw concern in those endless blue depths. “One of your associates?”

“I have my absolute trust in him,” Damen replied gently, “A good man, loyal and strong and what’s more he has never laid eyes on you before. He will not harm you, I swear.”

There was no response from Laurent, only that he looked down and continued to chew in silence.

Damen could not let it rest.

“Laurent.” No response. “Laurent. _Laurent. LAURENT!_ ”

“ _What?!_ ” His eyes were blazing now. “Is it too much to ask that I enjoy my breakfast in silence?! _What?_ What the fuck do you want now?”

Damen could sort of see through Laurent’s ploy. He wanted Damen to rise in fury and yell and scream and---possibly---storm out of the apartment in anger. It was shown in how the fire was gone from Laurent’s eyes and now he was just waiting…He was trying to bait Damen into a rage and it almost worked as Damen, who was passionate by nature, felt something akin to lava bubbling in the center of his chest. He was only able to calm himself by wondering how many window-breaking shouting matches Laurent had instigated against Auguste. He wanted to laugh at the thought, but that might actually make the current situation worse.

Instead, he took a long, deep breath to compose himself and made sure his expression was calm and sweet. “Laurent. If anything happens, if you feel unsafe for even a moment, if you fucking trip and fall and scrape your knee, I swear I will drop everything I am doing and run back to your side.” Laurent looked as though he was about to scoff. “ _I swear to god_. I’ll not let anybody touch you.”

Laurent stared long and hard at Damen’s eyes, searching for…something. But then his lovely face darkened and he stood up with surprising speed.

“Do whatever you want; I don’t care.”

He left the table, his own plan---or at least Damen imagined---having been foiled and turned against him and only then did Damen feel guilt. His pushing and Laurent’s stubbornness had caused Laurent to leave his ‘breakfast’ mostly uneaten on the table.

Laurent made no sign of returning to the main room and Damen sincerely hoped he would not be called to the hospital for Laurent fainting after his meeting with Erasmus.

Nikandros showed up at quarter past nine and Laurent had conveniently chosen that time to still be in the shower so that Damen could not confront him before he left. Damen wondered if this was truly the case or he simply liked the idea of Laurent employing a child’s logic for evasion. Nikandros took in his surroundings with a trained eye.

“So what’s the story, boss? Give me a breakdown of his schedule.”

“I’m not your boss right now.” Damen reminded gently. “And this might just be the easiest follow you’ve ever had. Just walk with him to his classes and sit by the door. He’s got two classes in the morning and they end at eleven-forty so by that time I should be on my way back or leaving. If I’m a bit late just tell me where you are and I’ll meet you but I swear I’ll be back on campus by noon. Also, one annoying thing is that he doesn’t have a cell phone so if---for whatever reason--- he disappears, don’t even hesitate. Just call me.”

“Please,” Nikandros replied with a wry smile, “I’m a professional.”

“So is he,” Damen admitted with something a bit more than admiration in his voice. “Promise me, Nikandros. Don’t let him leave your field of vision. I will never let myself live if I let…” He shook his head, refusing to finish and even entertain the thought. Besides Nikandros did not know the details of Laurent’s predicament, save for the fact that he was in immediate danger.

“I won’t let you down.” Nikandros assured with a clap on the shoulder.

“Thank you.” Damen had to remember he trusted Nikandros with his own life. He could trust Nikandros with Laurent’s. “Any headway on that rent boy I asked you to look into.”

Nikandros chewed at the corner of his lip, in a familiar sign that he might not have the greatest of news. “We’ve been divvying up the rent shops so we don’t raise suspicion but…there’s nothing so far…”

Damen thought for a moment. He thought of the lovely Nicaise with his baby face and confident glare. He thought of how he had been leaving the company building long after hours and probably not many low-level grunts had access to such a building or such a boy. Therefore they could not check just any rent shop.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. But you’re going to have to go to…expensive places. Ones that are technically illegal. He’s only fifteen.” Nikandros grimaced at the thought. “I’ll front you the money just…find him so I can ask his help.”

“Understood.” Nikandros replied, accompanied by a long-suffering sigh.

“I knew you would.” Damen felt a little better. “Now I have to run out. Keep him safe Nikandros!”

Damen took a taxi to maximize the two and a half hours he had, as his apartment was not exactly close to campus. Luckily, he was somewhat of an expert at packing on the run. His apartment already had that stale smell of a place that hadn’t been inhabited for a few days and he left the windows open as he worked.

He tossed Auguste’s gold into the fireproof safe under his bed and pulled out one of three spare black duffel bags, into which he began stuffing his clothes and toiletries. He was a whirlwind and barely seemed to notice as his neighbor’s cat began watching him with benign interest from one of the open windows.

When the bag was sufficiently filled and the cat had decided that was where she also felt most comfortable, Damen began to shut all of his windows and prepare to lock up.

He allowed himself to scratch the cat’s tiny white head before scooping her up in one of his palms and shouldering his bag with the other. The moment he set her down outside the door, she began purring and weaving through his legs, meowing in desperation as he turned to leave.

“Trust me,” he called back to her, “you are much sweeter than my current housemate. But I think he needs me more.” The cat just sat on her haunches and glared.

 

Torveld’s apartment was much closer to downtown---in between Laurent and Damen’s apartments---and Damen noted with dismay that it had much higher security in place than in Laurent’s brownstone. If the stalker wanted to get inside Laurent’s building, he would have a much easier time of it than he had had here. It almost made him want to run back but…he trusted Nikandros and he wanted to hear what Erasmus had to say.

With shaking fingers he pressed the video intercom and calmed down considerably when he saw Erasmus’ lovely face again. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello Erasmus.”

“H-Hello Damianos.” There was the stutter again. “I…I’ll buzz you up.” The door clicked open and Damen was confronted by another row of elevators and a bored ‘security’ guard behind a frosted glass desk. Knowing that Erasmus and Torveld lived on the top floor---the _twentieth_ floor—he was tempted for a moment to take the elevator…but he eventually decided against it and jogged up the stairs. He was slightly out of breath by the time he was at the correct door.

“Damianos!” Damen had to paste a grin on his face despite hearing his full name as Torveld yanked open his door with a smile. “Come in, come in!”

Their apartment was very clean and very white, but it had a much more homey feeling than Laurent’s minimalist apartment. The picture was only completed with Erasmus wandering from the living room, alight with a smile as he took Torveld’s hand. It was a place so drenched in happiness, Damen could not imagine such a horrible crime occurring here.

“Please come in,” Torveld offered gesturing to his living room. “It’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other! How is life? How is your father? I was surprised to hear Erasmus mention you at the party the other day. I didn’t realize you had any sort of communication with Aleron’s family.”

It was a wonder that stuttering Erasmus could get a word in edgewise with Torveld being so talkative and loud. Still, Damen liked the man’s sunny good humor.

“I don’t actually. Aleron is still very…not fond me so I would appreciate if---.”

“Yes, yes,” Torveld agreed waving his hand in understanding as he sat on the couch across from Damen. “I’ll not mention anything of your presence or this meeting. To be honest, I am not exactly fond of Aleron at this moment either, though I must put on a good show for the benefit of my family business.” His face had darkened but it became gentler when Erasmus sat next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“T-Tell Torveld wh-what you told me.” Erasmus insisted, effectively stopping the endless flow of Torveld’s questions. “I-I know you are probably…anxious to be back at Laurent’s side.”

“Thank you,” Damen said, smiling at Erasmus. He then gave them an explanation of what he had been up to: Auguste coming to him at his work, reading the police case file, guarding Laurent, and the constant flow of horror to the brownstone’s mailbox. He left out most of his opinions and the feeling he had that Laurent was quite afraid at this point in time. His audience was captive by his story though Damen noted the Torveld held Erasmus closer and had a murderous look on his face while Erasmus was looking a little white in the face.

When he finished there was a moment of tense silence.

When Torveld spoke it looked as though he was barely able to speak for his emotions. “Erasmus…Darling. If…if you do not wish to tell your tale, then I am sure Damen will understand.” Damen nodded in assent. “You need not re-live the…pain.”

Erasmus looked up at his lover with a peaceful smile. “I…I r-refuse to let f-fear rule my life. I-I’m not afraid of h-him anymore. And I d-don’t want him to h-hurt anyone else if I can…help.” Torveld, bless his sensitive soul, actually looked as though he was tearing up at the inner strength of his slender lover and placed a kiss on Erasmus’ knuckles.

“You are a treasure.”

His tone caused Damen to clear his throat before the two of them forgot he was there and began to make love on the couch. Erasmus looked toward him and fixed him with a serious amber gaze. Damen inhaled now wondering if he wanted to hear the story Erasmus was about to tell.

“I-I am not ashamed a-anymore.” Erasmus began and he actually had a firm, strong set to his jaw and his voice, while still stuttering, was filled with conviction. “I have been going t-to the th-therapist and now I know… _it wasn’t my fault_.”

Damen heard the story and tried not to imagine, but his mind was made for mapping out possible situations.

Erasmus too had been receiving startling mail: pictures, descriptions of what he had been doing that day, graphic fantasies that did not bear repeating…It had had an effect on both of their lives as the both of them started going out less and, if they did, they went out together. Torveld’s only addition to the recollections was a regretful: “I thought no one could make it inside the apartment…”

Then…

Torveld had to leave the apartment to actually have a meeting with Aleron, but Erasmus had known better to lock the door and not open it for anyone until Torveld came back.

“He…had a key,” Erasmus said it as though he did not believe it himself. “H-He unlocked th-the door. I-I don’t know how but he must have g-gotten the key. A-And he was stronger th-than me so…I couldn’t d-do anything…I c-couldn’t see. He g-grabbed me by the n-neck.”

Damen knew the other details from the police file so he begged Erasmus to skip the horrors, if only to keep Torveld from losing his mind. He currently looked torn between barely concealed anguish and fury.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Damen whispered, afraid he might startle Erasmus. “Do you…mind if I ask you some questions about what you remember…about him?”

Erasmus nodded. “I shall…t-try my best.”

“Was he tall?” At least as tall as Erasmus was. “Did you see his face?” No, he had been tied and blindfolded almost immediately. “Was he fast? Was he strong?” Yes to both. The strength had been truly what had terrified Erasmus. “Did he say anything to you?”

This question gave Erasmus pause. “Yes…but I am sorry, I d-don’t want to…even _th-think_ about the t-terrible things he s-said to me.”

“I understand. Can you at least describe his voice?”

“Y-Yes. V-Very deep and r-raspy. He was also q-quite heavy. I f-felt the bed d-dip. But I d-didn’t try to look. I thought…he would kill me…”

Damen did not wish to hear anymore as he thought about Laurent being subjected to such thoughts. “Thank you for your help Erasmus. You are stronger than…anyone I have met. I swear to you I won’t let anyone else…feel what you have felt. Torveld,” Torveld looked pleased to have something else to focus on beside his own pain, his inability to protect the one he loved, “why did you go to meet Aleron?”

“Ah,” Damen’s ploy seemed to have failed as Torveld looked positively furious for a split second before he hid his emotions---probably to avoid upsetting Erasmus. “Surprisingly he wanted to talk about this very situation. He recommended I come alone to give Erasmus a break from having to think about the stalker. After…we filed the police report, Aleron has refused to update us and has actively prevented me from launching my own investigation. He believes…if this gets out it could hurt his business.” The way Torveld looked at Erasmus, it was clear he felt Aleron’s company could burn to the ground if it made Erasmus feel one iota safer. “Unfortunately, my brothers agree and so I have my hands tied for the sake of my own company. At least I had the power to change the locks and hire additional security, but all contact has stopped now.”

Damen took in all this information with careful contemplation.

He found it a very fascinating coincidence that Aleron just _happened_ to call Torveld away the night Erasmus was raped. And Aleron was trying to keep this whole business quiet? Well Auguste certainly wasn’t helping his father by giving Damen the police dossier…maybe the love of his brother outweighed the love of his company?

The information was swirling around in his head but he forced a smile onto his face. “You have helped me more than I could have ever dreamed. I cannot thank you enough…”

Though the details had made him anxious to return to Laurent’s side, he also felt it would be rude to excuse himself after such important confessions. So he stayed a little longer and asked them about a topic apparently very near and dear to the two of them: how they met.

And Torveld spoke of it with unconcealed joy and Erasmus glowed as he told it. A story like from a cheesy romance novel, Torveld had seen Erasmus being mistreated by one of his clients, inquired after him the very next day, bought his company for a solid week and then professed his love not long after. As the fourth son, he was free with his choice of lover and so his family had not blinked as he introduced them to his beautiful rent boy-turned-fiancée.

At least it brought up his mood and Damen found himself grinning like a fool as they chatted together. When he was restored to his position, he would have to make an effort to build up rapport with Torveld’s company.

Erasmus had gotten up to fetch cheese and grapes from the fridge, creating a lull in conversation, when Damen’s phone vibrated. He covertly snuck a look and instantly his blood ran cold. It was from Nikandros:

‘ _Laurent is gone._ ’

Images flashed unbidden into Damen’s mind: a large hand gripping that slender white neck, exposing skin still healing from a boiling hot shower, screaming… He stood with such speed that Erasmus dropped the cheese on the floor.

“I’m so sorry.” Damen could barely hear his own voice over the pounding of his heart. “Something… _urgent_ has come up---no, no. Don’t worry yourself,” he insisted as fear caught hold in Erasmus’ eyes. “One of my coworkers has misplaced something important. I must go.”

Erasmus breathed a sigh of relief and began to pick up the cheese. Torveld nodded. “I understand. Go on then, Damianos. And don’t be a stranger. I hope we will see you again soon.”

“Y-Yes,” Erasmus’ eyes were shining with hope. “P-Please come again soon.”

“I thank you again.” It was all Damen to do to squeeze out those words. Still he was forced to push back his panic a little longer as he was led to the door, given a clap on the shoulder by Torveld, and kissed Erasmus’ cheek. He was in a daze until the door shut with a click.

Then all bets were off.

Damen did not remember going down the stairs but he must have been pumped full of adrenaline, as he had barely broken a sweat by the time he screeched into the lobby, scaring the guard at the front desk. He practically dove into the first cab on the curb, terrifying the driver as he screamed:

“ _CAMPUS! GO, GO, GO!”_

The driver had taken one look at Damen’s maddened expression and evidently took him seriously, throwing the car into drive and squealing out into the street. The cabbie broke every speed limit from Torveld’s apartment to the college campus, spurred on by Damen’s frantic call to Nikandros.

He picked up at the first ring, sounding out of breath. “Damen!”

“ _Nikandros_.” Damen was vaguely aware that he sounded nothing at all like himself. His thoughts were a black tangle of emotions he would rather not name. “What happened? Where is Laurent?”

“I swear to god, I _blinked_ and he was gone.” Nikandros sounded frantic and out of breath, as if he was running around the campus. “I’ve searched the cafeteria, all the classes in this building, the bathrooms… Damen it’s my fault!”

“I’ll be there!” Damen gasped. When he hung up his phone, he racked his brain but it was crazed with fear.

Honestly he could give a shit about Auguste’s panic if he should hear of the current situation; he didn’t care about Aleron’s reaction either. All he could think was that if Laurent---fragile but razor sharp Laurent---were to come to any harm while he had been away then Damen would never forgive himself. The guilt and fury washed over him in cycles until his feet actually hit pavement again. The moment the cab stopped, Damen thrust a handful of bills into the drivers lap and was out of the car in a full sprint.

His mind was racing; if not in the classrooms, if not on the grounds, or the bathrooms, or the cafeteria, where could he be?

Damen dug his heels into the sod and redialed Nikandros.

“ _Did you check the library_?”

“No,” Nikandros gasped. “I’m in the main union now, going to check the parking garages---.”

“I’m going to the library.” Damen interrupted without shame and took off in a dead run to the towering brick library. He must have looked truly alarming because people practically dove out of his path.

He thundered through the main entrance and people who looked up with the intent to shush him were instantly cowed when they caught sight of his enormous panicked form. Damen did not cease running; he skidded through all the nooks and secret corners of the first and second floors, searching desperately for that telltale flash of white blond.

On the third floor where he and Laurent had sat together hours before on Friday, Damen caught sight of something and nearly upended some shelves in his haste to check and make sure.

When he saw those dark blue eyes, wide with surprise and not fear, when he saw that Laurent was safe and had not been kidnapped, the exhaustion of sprinting, the anger and worry and relief and guilt hit him like a punch to the gut and he slumped to his knees. Sweat trickled down his back and temple and, quite suddenly, he was out of breath.

“You _did_ come.” Laurent whispered as though he could not quite believe it himself. He could not hide the amazement in his voice.

“Oh…my god…” Damen sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he reached out trembling hands. Perhaps because of the current situation, Laurent actually allowed Damen to take his hands and hold them. “ _Thank god_ …”

Damen waited to call Nikandros and just gripped Laurent’s slim hands, overcome with relief that he was safe. He was rambling like a madman, but his emotions were just too overwhelming. “Oh god…I thought we lost you…I thought he got you…I was about to turn this university upside down! My god, when Nikandros called I…” He could not even describe the feeling and he didn’t care if Laurent mocked him for it. “I thought my heart might stop…Don’t _do_ this again!....Please…”

When he looked up, having calmed down, Laurent’s expression was blank but his eyes searched Damen’s face. “You…dropped _everything_ …and ran here?”

Damen stood swiftly, towering over Laurent and Laurent tried to step back, but Damen had not released his hands. “Of _course_ I did! I told you I would…My god Laurent! If anyone had taken you…”

He could not even put into words the horrible amalgam that had been his feelings up until about three minutes ago. He could only stand in silence, drowning in relief over the fact that Laurent was still here beside him.

 

It was a silent cab ride back to Laurent’s apartment.

A frazzled Nikandros had been alerted to Laurent’s safety and had gone back to his own home looking as though he had lost a year off of his lifespan. Damen would have to remember to send him some tequila…some very _good_ tequila as an apology. It was Nikandros who had been more upset by Laurent’s little ‘test’.

Of course it had been a test.

The moment Damen had promised him such a thing, Laurent---in his wicked, contrary mind---had decided he was going to force Damen to put his money where his mouth was. Perhaps he had hoped that Damen would be furious, lecture him and storm off in a swirl of anger. Damen felt a twinge of annoyance, but in all honesty he had expected this to happen at some point, what with Laurent’s calculated mind attempting to see how far he could push people. But Damen could only feel indescribable relief, drowning out that single spark of frustration.

It must have caused Laurent no small amount of shock, as Damen had not played into his hands. As such, Laurent was deep in thought the entire ride home.

When the both of them got to the lobby, Laurent did not even pause to see if Damen was going to search his mailbox, which he did not. He simply trotted behind Laurent as he had been paid and asked to do. And Laurent’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper as the two of them spent more time in silence.

When they entered his room, Laurent seemed unable to hold back any longer and his curiosity was piqued.

The door had just shut behind him when Damen saw Laurent bracing himself against the back of the couch, his eyes leveled at Damen with a look of ferocious intensity.

“May I help you?” Damen asked as he lightly set his duffel bag next to the couch.

“I refuse to believe you’re not angry with me.” Laurent insisted with a tone that suggested he was primed for a fight. But despite his apparent desire to pick a fight, his entire posture hinted at defense. Damen wondered for a moment if this hellcat was actually scared of what would happen should Damen actually be angry with him.

He sighed and noticed that Laurent flinched almost infinitesimally. He took great care to make sure his expression was gentle. “Do you _want_ me to be angry with you?”

This threw him off. He had expected it but…did he want Damen to yell and curse at him?

Damen sighed again when Laurent could not seem to make up his mind and made a bold move. He moved forward and embraced Laurent---not as a lover, as marvelous as that would be---but as he would embrace a fellow comrade, informal and comforting. As expected, Laurent stiffened immediately with the unfamiliar contact but Damen had angled himself so that Laurent could step away if he so chose.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Damen said in his friendliest voice, “I’m not encouraging you to run away and hide at every opportunity. It was shitty what you did to Nikandros…but you were right. Words are cheap and…I _hope_ now that you’ve seen how I do keep my word, that I seem trustworthy. I’m just…so _relieved_ that you weren’t harmed. If so, would have regretted this day for the rest of my life.”

“You are very dramatic,” Laurent replied, maneuvering out of Damen’s arms. Damen let him go. “This is just your job. Don’t force yourself.”

His words had all the right cruelty, but Damen felt the lack of feeling behind it. He had the distinct feeling that he was lowering Laurent’s defenses. He shrugged.

“It is my job. But my job requires emotional investment and I swore…”

Laurent glared, as if daring him to say it again.

Zero fucks given. “I swore I wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”

Laurent did not roll his eyes or run away; his brow furrowed and he looked down at his hands. He did not respond to Damen’s profession, however, before he walked away. But Damen hoped, even a little, that he was making some progress with Laurent.


	6. Day 5: The Smallest Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though he was a prince in the novels and didn't have to do these kind of things for himself, I always imagined Damen to love food and cooking for people; first of all he's Greek, so of course good food is what he's grown up with, and second he can pour all of his love and affection into his food since Laurent won't accept it outright. He's appalled by Laurent's current eating habits haha!  
> I've seen people describe Laurent as a snake and I love that comparison, but here I've (un)intentionally given Damen a cat-ear fetish. I guess I just love making up ridiculous nicknames for Laurent, our little hellcat,...it has nothing to do with the fact that I would also LOVE TO SEE LAURENT WITH FLUFFY YELLOW CAT EARS :)  
> Enjoy these two fools bonding a little bit and thank you all so far for the love and support!

** Day 5: The Smallest Change **

Damen had spent a quiet night with his own thoughts as Laurent had continued his usual routine of refusing to speak and retiring early to read and bathe, and Damen had no idea what was going to come out of that bedroom. Feeling a little bold, Damen got up with the intent to cook breakfast and---if Laurent was feeling a bit warmer towards him---hopefully coerce Laurent into eating more than 200 calories in a single meal.

Luckily the maid and his own foresight had given him ample ingredients to do so.

Damen pulled up the internet on his phone to peruse some of the lighter breakfast recipes he had saved and began to work diligently. Though he was an amateur chef by every definition, he was not terrible either.

He was so intensely focused on the task at hand that he did not even notice as Laurent entered the room.

He only happened to glance behind him to look for some chopped green onions when he caught sight of that lithe, pale form leaning against the threshold between the kitchen and main living room. Damen was pleased to note that Laurent was not glaring or fuming but just observing him quietly, arms crossed over his thin chest. He also looked more rested and relaxed than Damen had seen in his five mornings here.

“Good morning,” Damen hailed him cheerfully, stirring two pots simultaneously.

Laurent’s next words almost made him drop his spoons in surprise. “Yes…good morning. What are you doing?” It was the first time Laurent had actually responded to his morning greeting.

“I should think it’s obvious,” Damen responded, trying to hide his delight over this newest development, “I’m making breakfast. If you’ll sit tight I’ll get your portion in about five minutes.”

“But I---.” Laurent was about to protest but Damen smoothly interrupted.

“Don’t worry. I made sure that it’s light on the stomach.” He also failed to mention that both dishes he was cooking were filled with protein and would hopefully give Laurent some muscle. He could feel another complaint on the way, “Oh don’t be contrary; just sit down and humor me.”

Laurent shuffled for a moment behind him, obviously deciding whether or not he wanted to obey Damen or continue being a difficult little bitch. Damen would honestly enjoy either option, but Laurent surprised him by actually sitting down, silent and expectant.

This actually made Damen a little nervous; even when he was dating someone, he rarely cooked but rather ordered out. This would be the first time in a while.

At least he had timed it perfectly and the two dishes were ready to be eaten at about the same time and a taste test made him think that both were something even his grandmother would have praised. He was vaguely aware of Laurent occasionally looking up from what he was reading and straining to see what was being put into his delicate china bowls. Kind of like a little cat curious about what was being put in its’ food bowl and Damen had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud as he placed both bowls down in front of Laurent. He half-expected fuzzy golden ears to pop up as Laurent looked at his breakfast.

“What…is it?” Laurent asked as Damen handed him a pair of spoons.

“Lentils with tomato paste and green onions,” Damen motioned at the larger bowl with the incongruous little legumes, “And the other is my favorite from when I was a kid: baklava oatmeal.” Even just talking about it or smelling it was enough to make Damen’s mouth water. The savory oatmeal, the crunch of the candied walnuts, and the sweet honey cinnamon combination brought him back to all the times when his mother and grandmother made it for him. It tasted like love.

Laurent looked like he was using every ounce of his control to not instinctively pretend to be disgusted. “I…cannot remember the last time someone cooked me _oatmeal_.” He looked at the bowl as if he had never seen oatmeal in his entire life.

“Even if you hate it you have to tell me it’s delicious.” Damen responded, plunking his own bowls down on the table; he had a giant bowl of his own and only a small saucer of lentils. “I’ll not have you disrespect my grandmother.”

“Oh, did she make this?” Laurent was quick with his saucy remarks.

“You saw me make this.” Damen spat back though he couldn’t hide his smile. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. She and my mother used to make it for me for breakfast when I begged them hard enough. When I was old enough, they taught me though…I can never make it as well as they could.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Laurent responded heartlessly, taking his first bite of lentils.

Damen’s heart clenched and for a moment he wanted to leave---really truly leave Laurent---for the first time since they had met. It was still a sharp painful ache in his heart. “Yes…yes, I’m sure even you heard about…my mother.”

Fourteen had been a rough year for Damen as he had been forced to lose contact with his good friend and his mother had died in a car accident. Even his optimistic personality had had a hard time weathering such a year. Even so he tried not to be angry with Laurent though…his callousness fucking hurt.

“Yes, and you’ve heard of mine.” Laurent responded with no emotion. Damen did some quick math in his head. When Laurent was…five his mother had gone to the hospital but it took two more years---if he recalled correctly---for the cancer to wear her down.

“Did she ever cook for you?” Damen was genuinely curious as well as wanting to fire back at Laurent.

“I don’t remember.” Laurent kept his tone deliberately flat. He scooped up a spoonful of the oatmeal and suddenly Damen could focus on nothing else. He was brimming with anticipation as Laurent raised the spoon to his mouth and began to chew delicately. He swallowed and did not put down the spoon. “It’s…sweet.”

Damen could not be satisfied just with that. “But is it good?”

Laurent did not offer any more opinions, but he did have another bite…and another…and another until his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. He actually had a pleasant bloom of color in his cheeks from eating something substantial and Damen smiled thoughtfully as he chewed his own oatmeal.

Laurent’s eyes flicked to Damen’s half-full bowl. “You eat as many oats as a horse.”

Damen raised one eyebrow as he attempted to deduce Laurent’s true thoughts. He grinned broadly. “Would you like some more?” He gestured to the pot on the stove. “There’s probably half a bowl left if you’re still hungry…”

Two swift, annoyed flicks of an imaginary golden tail and Laurent narrowed his eyes slightly.

Damen continued his breakfast on in silence, as Laurent did not move. Laurent continued to sit at the table as Damen rinsed out his own bowls and put them in the dishwasher. Out of curiosity, he left the oatmeal pot on the stove---just to see what would happen---as he went to wash his face in the bathroom. He made sure to take his time.

When he emerged with a clean face and dripping black curls, Laurent was just in the process of entering his own room. He really did have a lovely profile.

“I’ll go clean up the kitchen while you get ready. Would you like me to save you the leftovers?”

Laurent avoided eye contact. “Don’t bother. I dumped the leftovers down the sink.” Damen let him go without any other questions but it didn’t seem very much like Laurent to waste food. Regardless of what had actually happened, Damen liked to imagine that Laurent had finished the rest of his breakfast.

Despite the decent start to their morning, Laurent and Damen did not have another conversation until the two of them reached the campus. Laurent only had one class in the morning and one in the afternoon, so they had a lot of time for Damen to figure out how to convince Laurent to eat a wholesome lunch.

“I hope you don’t plan to run and hide again.” Damen murmured almost teasingly. “I would stake my life that I can run faster than you.” By the looks some of the students were giving Damen as they recognized him from his rampage yesterday, it was clear many in the school were intimately familiar with just how fast he could run.

Laurent seemed unperturbed. “Is it in your repertoire to tackle your clients to the ground? Asking for a friend.”

Damen almost responded cruelly with ‘what friends?’ but decided instead to go for a much tamer response. “Only for desperate measures…But I’m skillful enough that it wouldn’t hurt you. I’d just…” He left it unsaid that if there was such a dire situation Damen would probably be grievously injured while shielding Laurent. He didn’t want to worry Laurent by having him imagine what could happen. “I’d just skin my elbows.”

“Hmphh,” was Laurent’s noncommittal response. “I wasn’t aware you _could_ get hurt.”

“You hurt me.” Damen said holding open the door for Laurent and Laurent looked up, unable for a split second to hide his surprise at Damen being so blunt; Laurent and Auguste would hide such things or alert the perpetrator with expert passive-aggression. Damen smiled gently as if to show that he bore no more ill will. “But I won’t let anyone hurt _you_.”

Laurent’s expression was delightfully confused in his subtle way for the majority of his first class.

Damen was not of the type to hold grudge unless the transgression was truly severe and besides…he was weak in the face of beauty. It made him feel a little better that he and Laurent had things in common. Theoretically, it should have made them closer to know what they both had lost. He had begun to remember Laurent in snatches of his memories but it was all his assumption that Laurent felt pain upon the memory of his mother.

Damen had not mentioned this to Laurent at the time, but he also felt a sort of camaraderie with Laurent in that their older brothers tended to be largely absent in their day-to-day lives. Damen had spent many of his younger years working hard to get Kastor’s approval only to realize one day that Kastor just did not _want_ to acknowledge Damen’s skills. It had been a hard pill to swallow.

And though he was no expert, Auguste seemed extremely busy and unable to spare an enormous amount of time for Laurent unless there was some emergency. Just another reason to hate the bastard, he supposed.

Damen was so lost in thought that he was only brought back to reality by the professor ending the class.

“Where to now?” He asked lightly, pasting a smile on his face as Laurent came down with his arms filled with schoolbooks and notebooks. “Let me take those.”

“I am more than capable of carrying my own books, thank you.” Laurent said sourly.

“I’m just afraid your tiny arms might snap under the pressure.” Damen joked and he saw something very dark flash in Laurent’s eyes. Seemingly out of nowhere, the wind was knocked out of Damen courtesy of Laurent slapping his heaviest textbook against Damen’s stomach.

“On second thought…fucking take them all. Perhaps Auguste was a little off the mark. I need a carthorse, not a bodyguard.”

Damen did not complain once about it, even after Laurent refused to take them for the rest of the class day and the walk home. He didn’t even notice the weight as he was deep in thought wondering about what to cook for dinner in order to entice Laurent to eat and wondered what had ever happened to his grandmother’s recipe cards. He hoped no one had been so foolish as to throw them away…he hoped _he_ had not thrown them away in the callousness of youth. He smiled thinking of his grandmother.

“Something funny?” Laurent asked.

“I was just thinking about who would win in a fight, you or my grandmother.” Damen responded. Honestly he wasn’t sure. It would probably be a close call.

“If you inherited your blasted height and muscles from her, then I sincerely doubt I would win.” Laurent responded with dry enthusiasm.

Damen actually snorted at the thought. No, he explained, his grandmother had been short and squat and Damen had dwarfed her after he had begun to grow at age twelve. She also had had a will of steel after having one headstrong son and two brazen grandsons, and Damen would have liked to see a battle of stubbornness between her and Laurent. A cold-eyed, sharp-tongued hellcat versus an old woman who had corralled four wild men over the course of her life and had no fear of any human. In actuality, she probably would have enjoyed Laurent’s obstinate demeanor and the way he ordered Damen about despite being so small and slim. She definitely would have insisted that he eat, as all grandmothers did.

Almost imperceptibly, as Damen described her, Laurent lost his cold mocking edge and softened a little.

“She was the finest cook I ever knew,” Damen admitted. “Are you in the mood to eat anything tonight? I’ll try to remember something similar that she made.”

“I never said I was hungry.” Laurent’s chill was back again.

Damen shrugged, the saucy retort coming to his tongue as easily as drawing breath. “Suit yourself. That food is what helped me grow to this size…I thought you could use an extra few inches…” Damen was glad he held the books now because if not he was eighty percent sure one of them would have been thrown at his head.

Laurent made no response but Damen was already thinking about what he could cook for dinner.

Upon re-entering Laurent’s apartment building, Damen noticed the distinct slump of Laurent’s shoulders when he caught sight of the brassy mailboxes. Apparently, Damen had provided enough distraction to let Laurent forget his predicament for a few precious hours but this wall stood as a shiny reminder that he could not relax for even a single moment.

He seemed to steel his resolve, his face its’ normal smooth mask of apathy.

“Laurent.”

“What…do you want?” Laurent asked. He sounded more tired than annoyed.

“You…don’t have to look inside if you don’t want to…” Damen made it clear that he had no intent to look inside at whatever horror awaited them from the afternoon and the previous day. He went to stand by the elevator, though he did not press the button to call it. He waited for Laurent to decide.

There was a small moment of silence before a slim arm reached past Damen to call the elevator. Damen smiled as he had not heard the unlatching mechanism of the mailbox and Laurent waited next to him empty handed. It was probably not the best idea to ignore the problem until the mailbox began to swell with unread filth, but the vengeful part of Damen wanted the stalker to be frustrated that his efforts were going to waste and that he could not get close to Laurent. It was a problem for another day.

Though Laurent was silent on the ride up and their reentry into the dark apartment, it was not nearly as strained and awkward as it had been in their first few days together. It seemed Laurent was getting used to his presence, even if he still did not like it.

Damen placed the schoolbooks on Laurent’s table and immediately went for the kitchen.

By the time Laurent had removed his shoes, washed his face, and returned to the kitchen with a book, Damen had already set out all of his ingredients and had begun to tie back his dark, curly hair. Dark blue eyes narrowed in the most absolute distrust, and the imaginary golden ears Damen pretended to see would be pressed flat against his head in preparation for a fight.

 _Hiss, little hellcat_ , Damen thought though he would never say it aloud. He wanted to hear what Laurent’s argument would be this time around.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Good.” Damen replied, turning his back to Laurent so he could hide his smile. “I never said that any of this was for you.” Normally most people would be skeptical, as the ingredients looked like enough for eight people. But Damen could eat that much and he was cooking in hopes that Laurent would want some by the end.

Laurent paced, circling the table a few times; he was curious but unable to abandon his fierce pride and ask what Damen was cooking. The smell of lemon gradually wafted through the kitchen and Laurent sat down at the table to read, though at times Damen could feel scrutinizing eyes on his back. He tried to focus solely on the task at hand.

When Damen could let the soup simmer alone for a few precious minutes, he began to chop greens and Laurent stood, wary but curious.

“I didn’t know someone your size ate salads,” He scoffed, getting close to Damen’s elbow but never actually touching him. He did have a point though; not many people would assume someone with Damen’s height and musculature had grown up on salads.

“I didn’t know someone _your_ size would try to pick fights with someone as large as I am so often.” Damen replied cheerfully and he knew it, he felt it in his bones that Laurent’s glare was withering. “I do like vegetables. And this salad is more about texture and flavor than stuffing your body with leaves.” There was a delicate simplicity to it that someone as complex as Laurent might not notice. “I’m not one for descriptions; you ought to try it.”

He threw the greens in a bowl and went to check on the soup, so abruptly that Laurent could make no discouragement.

Perhaps sensing that he had been a little too open with his curiosity, Laurent sat back at the table and resumed his book. Damen was too busy to notice his glances as he set about shredding the chicken back into the lemony broth. It smelled like he remembered and he hoped---with a watering mouth---that it tasted the same.

As the soup finished and cooled, Damen created the simple vinegar-oil dressing that he would use to garnish the salad. It was imperative that it be added last so that the leaves and onions remained crunchy.

Purposefully, Damen left more than half the salad in the bowl and at least half the soup in the pot.

When he sat at the table with his bowls, Laurent’s eyes flicked up to the food and the very edges of his white-pink nostrils quivered at the smell. Damen watched him intently and Laurent’s eyes narrowed when he saw that Damen was studying him. He did not like to be studied.

“Another one of your grandmother’s recipes?” He asked lightly, as though he did not care.

“This,” Damen explained holding the salad aloft, “is Maroulosalata and it is one of the most refreshing things I can prepare. And because someone of my size cannot survive on salads alone,” Laurent grinned wryly at his clever turning of words, “I’ve also made some lemon chicken soup.”

He did not mention that both dishes had been chosen with Laurent’s sensitive stomach in mind. Both were a little light for Damen, but he made sure to put extra chicken in the broth. It was still delicious, the first gulp going down warm and savory and just like he remembered.

Laurent watched him as he ate and Damen smiled as he chewed.

“By all means, there’s plenty left. You’re more than welcome to it.” He realized Laurent was too proud to ask for a helping outright. It was better if he gave him the option to refuse.

“I can make my own food.”

“Do you want to though?” Damen blew imaginary steam off of his soup mostly so Laurent could get another smell. “You should at least try the salad. Maybe it will help you grow a beard.”

Laurent’s lip curled in frozen fury over the mention of the smoothness of his fine face. But a moment later, he slapped his book closed and meandered over to where the food was sitting on the counter. Damen hid a pleased smile behind another bite of salad. He wouldn’t mind cooking for Laurent every day honestly…

“If this is foul, I should let you know I’ll have no qualms dumping it down the sink.” Laurent said with a warning edge in his voice as he sat down with two bowls. Of course he had loaded up on the greens but Damen hoped he could change that soon.

“I don’t doubt it.” Damen said, trying to look unaffected. He did not expect a compliment anyway.

Even his face refused to give away any semblance of compliment, he kept eating, slow and methodical in a way that gave him away as the polished young heir he was. Damen was enraptured, though he only looked sparingly.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” He asked as Laurent was in between a mouthful.

Wednesday was Laurent’s only day without class and Damen was wondering what fresh hell Laurent would lead him into when they had such ample time on their hands. The response actually surprised him.

“I…I go to Paschal on Wednesday.” Was all Laurent offered at first, and when the confusion was apparent on Damen’s face, he elaborated. “Paschal is my therapist.”

“Has he made any improvements on fixing your attitude?”

Laurent snorted before he could catch himself and then controlled his expression. “He’s been the most useful so far. Are you required to sit in on our sessions, or have you intruded on my privacy long enough?” There was a slight edge under his smooth voice that gave Damen pause.

Although the bodyguard side of him wanted to never let Laurent out of sight, fearing the moment he turned away he would be snatched, his more rational side took over. As secretive as Laurent was, he would probably not appreciate a licensed professional, much less his bodyguard of six days to hear his innermost thoughts and issues. Hell, Damen would even hate such a thing. So he would swallow his own discomfort to avoid putting Laurent through something worse. More than most other things in the world, he did not want Laurent stressed to the point of boiling that flawless skin of his…

“No. No I would not interrupt your personal life to that degree.” Damen admitted and Laurent’s eyes softened slightly. “If this Paschal fellow has a lobby, I’ll be perfectly content to wait there…provided you don’t leave his office without me.”

“Of course.” Laurent replied as though it did not concern him.

Damen had a lot of questions but he chose not to ask them and settled instead for occasionally watching Laurent nurse his soup. Aside from his nagging, Damen could also understand his grandmother’s constant need to feed the people around her. The heat of the broth warmed Laurent’s face until it was healthy and pink. Once again, Damen was struck by how much it suited him.

They finished the rest of their dinner in silence and Laurent stood rapidly as soon as his meal was done.

“What did you think?” Damen asked as Laurent rinsed his bowls out in the sink.

“Adequate.”

Damen shrugged. He would take it. And the next time Laurent ducked into a bookstore he would look for recipes containing large amounts of protein. As he usually did towards the end of his days he made a list in his mind of things he needed to do.

He still needed to find this Nicaise. He needed to burn those mailboxes to the ground. He needed new recipes that were high in protein and he _stil_ l needed to do a sweep of Laurent’s bedroom. One more thing…

As Laurent strode towards his bedroom, book in hand, and without glancing at Damen, Damen knew he would not see the young man again for the rest of the night.

“Good night Laurent. I will see you in the morning…and I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Silence was the only reply, but he felt hopeful with a full stomach.


	7. Day 6: The Shrink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey Paschal, fancy meeting you here.  
> As probably most of you guys have inferred, Laurent has not had the greatest history with psychologists and it is probably taking every ounce of his willpower to trust Paschal. So we can hardly blame him for the last half of this chapter, AKA. Sorry Damen...  
> And we've got some 'fun' coming up in the next chapters, courtesy of a crowd favorite.  
> In other news, I've signed up for the Captive Prince Big Bang so I'm plotting my next story after this one ;) Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

** Day 6: The Shrink  **

The breakfast today was a sort of quiche that Damen’s family simply called an ‘omelet’ but contained some special wild herbs that the poor maid must have gone through some difficulty to find and purchase. The smell was irresistible to him and he found himself inhaling deeply as he also crushed up cherries, blackberries and honey into a fine paste to mix in with yogurt. If someone one year ago had told him that he would be in house of his enemy’s brother, desperately cooking breakfast to satisfy his familial habit of feeding anyone who looked even _remotely_ hungry, he would have laughed in that person’s face.

Still, it beat the fuck out of dead-end jobs for the local nightlife. Even if he was turning into his grandmother.

He was so focused on cooking and Laurent was so eerily silent in his movements, that Damen did not notice he was sitting at the kitchen table until he heard the sound of pages rustling.

“Good morning, Laurent. Did you sleep well?” Damen asked politely, turning to look at his lone diner. Laurent only inclined his head in response to Damen, letting him know that he had heard but had no intention of responding. He looked a little peaked, stretched thin, and Damen removed the omelet from the skillet with the edges still bubbling.

Damen expertly halved and then quartered the giant omelet, keeping it on a large plate so it gave Laurent the appearance of having a choice over whether of not to eat. With the yogurt he was less subtle, pouring half into a bowl and placing it wordlessly in front of Laurent to see what would happen.

Laurent did not even look up from his book as he picked up a spoon and began to mindlessly take bites of the yogurt.

Damen hid his grin by picking up a massive slice of omelet as if it were a piece of pizza. Purposefully, he had left a plate, fork, and knife near Laurent if he chose to take a slice himself. “Your concentration is something else. May I ask what you’re reading?”

“Books on law.”

Damen made a face of pain. “My god, I’m sorry but I cannot imagine a more boring way to start my morning.” He took a bite of the omelet; it was pretty good but the inner parts were a bit soggier than he was used to. Hopefully Laurent wouldn't notice.

“Luckily it falls on me to read it and not you. And don’t underrate yourself. You talking is a supremely boring way to start the day.”

Damen longed to upset his bowl of yogurt on Laurent’s open book but he refrained. “Why books on law? Surely, you don’t read them for fun…” Either that or he had severely underestimated Laurent’s thirst for knowledge.

“Of course not for fun, though you might call it a ‘passion’,” Laurent scoffed and did not seem to notice as Damen put a bit of omelet on a plate and slid it towards Laurent’s elbow. “It is for my major.”

“You’re going to be a lawyer for your family’s company.” Damen stated.

“My father would like that.” Laurent said, acidic with scorn. “But I have decided to shirk the family mold and follow a path outside of the business sector. Auguste approves but my father still thinks I can be convinced to change my mind.” His yogurt was almost gone and Damen saw slender fingers absentmindedly reach for the fork and knife.

 _Keep him talking_. “Then what will you use such a degree for, if you don’t mind me asking?” He was, to an extent, genuinely curious.

Laurent seemed surprised at the first bite of egg and vegetables as though he had not even realized he had been eating this whole time. Then he stared, piercing and blue, into Damen’s eyes. “I want to be a lawyer…for children. Children who have…had difficult lives. You can see why my father considers it a waste of my skills. Not much money to be made from kids unless…you live in a certain city sector.” Damen’s mind instantly thought of furious Nicaise and Laurent went back to his breakfast.

“That is certainly…very _noble_ of you.”

It actually was surprising for Damen. It was one of the moments he thought that perhaps Laurent was not cold and steely even half of the time. It was an honorable, if odd profession, for a young heir to be interested in and at least Aleron had Auguste to take over the family business. He felt a rush of fondness for Laurent and a pang of pity for any future lawyers or witnesses that happened to be on his opposing side in court. Surely he would tear their arguments to shreds.

“Noble. How very diplomatic of you.” Laurent responded noticing the odd tone of Damen’s voice. Maybe he took the surprise in Damen’s tone as a mockery.

“May I ask why you have a passion for such a specific job?”

Laurent smiled and it seemed cruel in its’ delight. “ _No_.”

They were awkwardly silent for a few minutes and Damen at least took some comfort in the fact that Laurent was eating, slow but steady. He finished his slice of omelet and Damen was pleased to note he looked much less strained than before.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked under his breath, half-hoping Laurent wouldn’t hear.

But Laurent heard everything. “Of course not. Wednesdays are the bane of my existence. I hate therapists and everything they stand for.” His tone was so dry, Damen did not know whether or not he was being serious.

“You hate them?”

“Let me rephrase: I hate people asking me a lot of questions in a short period of time.” He looked up at Damen with a very pointed look, as if to really drive home how much Damen’s questions annoyed him.

“Fine, fine.” Damen raised his hands in defeat. “You need not send it to me in writing. I only have one more question.” Laurent gave him a dangerous look and Damen only smiled in response before motioning to the empty plates. “How did you like your breakfast?”

“The omelet was soggy.” Laurent remarked before picking up his book and leaving. _Little bitch_.

Laurent’s appointment was at 11 am, but since they were taking a taxi there Damen had plenty of time to tidy up in the kitchen and wash his face before Laurent re-emerged looking polished and bored. He truly had a magnificent poker face, as Damen would not consider this the appearance of a person who dreaded his next engagement.

The taxi ride was silent as usual but Laurent was a little off because he did not read even once on the 20-minute drive.

Paschal’s office was a pleasant-looking one-story brick building that almost touched one of the nicer suburbs of the city. He was one of a few therapists in-house, his name emblazoned on a plaque near the street. Overall it struck Damen as a very private and inviting place, with beautifully manicured walkways and ample shade from dogwood trees. The kind of place where he felt a stalker would not dare follow…

Laurent swept forward carelessly as he had obviously done on several Wednesdays before and Damen held the door for him before following inside.

Damen had never been in a therapist’s office before, but he always imagined them to be bland and sterile-looking like most doctor’s offices, what with stacks of magazines, beige carpet, and a large fish tank built into the wall. But this place was quite different. The walls were white, save for one that was painted a vibrant grass green. There were enormous picture windows upon which were placed twisted bonsai trees in dark blue and celadon pots and the room was scatted with plush white couches large enough to comfortably fit three people. The décor featured a theme of plants and tree branches and, oddly, there was no receptionist.

Laurent simply took a seat on the corner of an unoccupied couch and waited.

“Would you like a book?” Laurent jumped at the sound of Damen’s voice and then looked to where he gestured at the bookshelf.

“No. Don’t talk to me.”

Damen obliged, sitting in silence until one of the office doors opened and man stepped out. He smiled softly at the sight of Laurent and if he was surprised upon seeing someone of Damen’s size next to his patient he hid it well.

Damen followed Laurent to be introduced and out of habit he sized up the man in front of him. Paschal he would place in his early to mid forties with that fine-boned, intellectual look that many middle-aged doctors had, completed with the square-framed reading glasses. His eyes were gentle in the assessment of the behemoth before him and he shook Damen’s hand in greeting.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your friend Laurent. I am Paschal.”

“He’s not my friend.” Laurent said at the same time as Damen replied with: “My name is Damen.”

“He’s my bodyguard.” Laurent explained, accompanied by a long-suffering sigh. “Auguste has provided me with him for the month to ward off my…little problem.” Understatement of the fucking century.

“Ahhh, I see.” Paschal’s regards for Damen had obviously gone up even more with how warmly he smiled. “Then will you be sitting in on our sessions?”

The very idea of ‘no’ vibrated off of Laurent’s body as he glared up at Damen. “ _Absolutely not_. He will be waiting here in the lobby.” Paschal seemed very used to this tone as he smiled apologetically at Damen.

“I care very much about the safety of my patients. Is there any way I can make you feel more at ease as a guard?”

“Yes, actually,” Damen replied, conveniently ignoring Laurent’s death glare. “If I may ask to do a quick sweep of your offices to make sure it has not been bugged? And if you would leave your door unlocked just in case. It will only take a moment.” Paschal nodded in assent; he was much more cooperative, as Damen had _still_ not been able to do a sweep of Laurent’s bedroom and bathroom.

Damen held his breath as he checked the room. He knew his heart would crack with fury and sorrow if this office had been compromised and all of Laurent’s trusted secrets had been laid bare before a monster.

Luckily it came up clear and Damen was able to breathe in relief.

“By all means, carry on.” He said to the ever smiling Paschal. “I will wait out here in the lobby.” Damen seemed to be the picture of good humor, but he would be lying if he ignored the jolt of panic that rippled through him the moment he could not see that shock of blond hair.

It was hard to relax thinking of what scrutiny Laurent was under and how Damen would have to break down a door to rescue him, so Damen busied himself with his phone to take his mind off of things.

He spent most of the hour looking up recipes on his phone and ordering a cookbook.

It could not be sent to Laurent’s own mailbox, so Damen had it sent to the basement headquarters of his own company. His friends would surely be confused and have a laugh at him over his explanation, but it was better than Laurent judging him in stony silence.

When the door reopened, Damen had to grip the arms of the chair to keep from leaping to his feet.

Paschal was chatting in hushed tones with Laurent as they approached Damen and---for all intents and purposes---Laurent looked to be perfectly cheerful. Damen stood only when they were a few paces away and he twitched a little as Paschal laid an informal hand on Laurent’s slim shoulder. Damen had always convinced himself it was part of his job, but with Laurent he genuinely did not want anyone to touch him without express permission.

“I am quite relieved you have this young man to stay by your side.” Paschal remarked with a gentle nod to Damen. “I am no physician but your color looks improved from our previous session.”

Laurent pretended as though Paschal had not even spoken. “Until Wednesday.”

Paschal smiled and it had a tinge of sadness to it, but he nodded in the face of a force of nature he could not possibly hope to control. Laurent did not look back at his patient therapist as they left the building and called for a ride home.

Damen had no more than shut the door to the office when Laurent had whirled on him. “Don’t! I can see it on your lips. I can see it in your eyes. I can see the one cog in your tiny brain spinning and I am asking you for the sake of my sanity: _don’t ask me any questions_.”

Damen’s mouth was slightly agape at the end of this impassioned plea. He was unused to Laurent being so fired up but then…he did tend to act out of character when he was tired. Damen composed himself and nodded as though it could not be helped.

“I see. Sheep’s stomach for lunch, it is.”

Laurent could not choke back the laugh that burst out of him, unbidden, and Damen glowed with inner pride that he could make such a cold, stressed bitch laugh against his own nature.

 

Unsurprisingly, they did not eat sheep’s stomach for lunch or dinner, though Laurent did concede to let Damen cook the dinner. Just as he had begrudgingly allowed Damen into his home, he had apparently decided it was just easier---and more flavorful---to let Damen be in charge of cooking and he wordlessly accepted the small, halved eggplant that had been stuffed with couscous, chickpeas, onions, garlic and tomatoes.

It needed work, as Damen did not have the time or ingredients to make the accompanying sauce, and Laurent made sure that Damen knew his cooking was subpar. After his unexpected bubble of laughter, he had been nothing but uncooperative and sharp for the rest of the day.

Damen gritted his teeth as he rinsed out the dishes. Whatever made him eat protein was acceptable.

When he had finished his ‘punishment’ for his less-than-perfect meal, Damen meandered into the living area where Laurent was perched on the couch, gazing intently at his computer screen. For a moment, Damen forgot his annoyance and just marveled in how lovely his face was when it was half-obscured by his long hair. He only allowed himself this respite a few moments, in case Laurent noticed and disliked the attention.

The spell was broken when Laurent looked up and his expression soured.

“The couch is occupied.” He remarked coldly as Damen made a motion to sit.

Damen felt a sharp twinge of annoyance. He had to fight _very_ hard to push it down and not let his anger bubble up. “Must you be so disagreeable all day long?” He disliked his client being on edge as it put him on edge.

“Fuck you,” Laurent said with a winning smile. “It’s my apartment.”

Anger bubbled up. “How very much like your brother.” He did not mean it as a compliment, but Laurent took it as one.

“Thank you, I love my brother. Now, in that vein, I’d like to not see you again, preferably for the entire night so go out in the hallway or something.”

Damen was aghast. He could count on one hand the number of times he had felt so disrespected and none of those times had ever come from a client. His skills were elite and highly-prized. He was not some two-bit bouncer---but then…the anger took real hold as he remembered that now technically he _was_ a bouncer and this ungrateful college student was his only way out.

“I’ll be in your library then.” Damen replied through gritted teeth. Laurent was right about one thing: he needed to get out of sight so that he could cool down.

“ _No_.” Laurent was vehement. “ _You can’t go in there_.”

“Then where am I to go?” Damen shouted, finally the rage seeping into his bloodstream and bubbling over. To be fair, Laurent did not flinch. “I am not some dog you can order around! I am not a servant for spoiled brats! I am here to _help you_ and I will not be shunted into the hallway!”

“I cannot even have a moment alone?” Laurent hissed, his tone equally dangerous. “Six days and I already tire of your ‘companionship’. I never asked for you to cook foods that I hate. I never asked for you to bombard me with pointless questions; one therapist is enough thank you. I never once asked you to intrude in my life. In fact, all I asked was that you don’t speak. Surely you can do one thing right and give me a moment’s peace?”

A number of very cold and very untrue statements jumped to the tip of Damen’s tongue.

“If you spit on people’s good intentions, it is no small wonder you prefer being alone. It seems that you are alone most of your days. Even Auguste---.” Damen regretted the word the moment they were in open air. It was not in his nature to be cruel with words. “Don’t…listen to me.”

“No, please, continue.” Laurent whispered raw and cold.

“No.” Damen replied insistently. “For once, I will do as you ask and stop speaking. I will be in the bathroom taking a shower. Enjoy the silence while it lasts. I will not be going anywhere.” He stubbornly refused to leave despite the insults he had been forced to endure. Leaving would be Laurent’s win and loss; he would have proved that his will was steel, his solitude absolute, and that he was a stronger force than Damen, but at what cost? He knew---they both knew---that he would be brutalized and raped without Damen there.

There would be no bittersweet satisfaction for either of them.

Laurent tried to have the last word but Damen slammed the bathroom door to mask that venomous voice. He pressed his forehead against the wood, willing himself not to go and lash out but to stay and calm down. So this was the danger of emotional investment with a client…

Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for this, just like Kastor said.

The thought of Kastor and all he had done sent new waves of fury and anguish pulsing through Damen’s body. As badly as he wanted to throw his fist through the flimsy door, he was no longer a rash youth who solved his problems with violence.

A cold shower did a better trick.

The shuddering cooled his fiery temper and he came out of the shower mostly upset with himself for being baited into saying things he did not mean. He was so embarrassed by his behavior that he waited a solid hour in the bathroom until he had chatted with his friends and organized his thoughts.

When he opened the door, Damen hoped that Laurent had also gone into seclusion somewhere to melt his anger. Of course he could have no such luck.

Laurent’s hand was on the knob to his door, his computer and books in his arms. He did not seem surprised to see Damen but there was an unmistakable clench in his fine jaw. It only lasted a breath before Laurent turned away, shielding his expression. He yanked his door open with a bit of unnecessary force.

Speaking probably was not the most prudent course of action but…

“Laurent.”

The door slammed and Damen was sure that Laurent had broken it behind him. Damen was nothing if not persistent and rapped his knuckles against the door. Of course there was no response, but he would push forward.

“Laurent I am sorry. And…I still…I will not let anyone touch you.”

He was almost positive Laurent would not respond---much less if he was even listening to begin with---but it put Damen at ease to say so. He had already woven it into his daily schedule and now his day did not feel complete without saying Laurent was safe. Perhaps if he said it aloud enough, Laurent would begin to believe it.

With nothing more to do, Damen resigned himself to lie on the couch and message his friends, but he could not help himself as he began to look at recipes yet again.

Damen was holding his phone aloft, trying to describe to Nikandros how he was feeling without giving away too much of his argument with Laurent, as Nikandros would blame the entire affair on Laurent’s stubbornness and Damen’s inability to see flaws past a curtain of soft, golden hair. As he was typing his phone buzzed with insistence and he nearly dropped the device on his face.

It also didn’t help his surprise that the message was from an unknown number and was disturbingly cryptic.

‘ _Heard you were looking for me, asshole_.’

Damen sat up, his heart seemingly pounding in his throat. For a moment, he wondered if he should call Auguste in case he was actually about to begin conversing with the stalker but his anger won out in the end. Just the thought of Laurent’s scalded skin was enough to make him want to fight. If he could have punched through his phone, the person on the other end would have received the beating of his life. Instead, Damen frantically called the number and pressed it to his ear.

While it rang, he decided what he would say first, but when there was a click all he could grit out was: “ _Who is this?_ ”

“As expected, you’re a fucking idiot.” The voice on the other end gave Damen pause. Despite the very Laurent-like tone and the foul language, the voice was light and high, almost like a young girl or…a boy whose voice had not yet broken. Damen paused, his anger having been snuffed out. “Go on then. Send your pea brain into overdrive. I can wait.”

If it wasn’t the stalker, Damen thought through his shock, then there was only one other person that he was really searching for. He remembered sharp lovely eyes and the defiant set on a child’s jaw.

“Nicaise?”

There was a pretty, bell-like laugh on the other end but its’ cruelty was overt. “My god! So your head isn’t just on your shoulders for decoration. Congratulations, I’ve found you. Now,” then his tone became thick with fury that did not sound at all natural on a child of fifteen, “ _call off your dogs_.” Then he hung up.

Even after Damen called the number three more times, Nicaise refused to pick up the phone and left Damen with dozens of unanswered questions. He supposed that Nicaise would respond when he was good and ready, not a moment before.


	8. Day 7: The Ice Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bonding chapter and this time Laurent is thawing out! I do like the idea of having a question quota for the two of them because otherwise Damen would chatter non-stop. Questions will get very deep and personal with each passing chapter...  
> Day 8 is Nicaise, and I swear after this chapter things REALLY begin to pick up because now the two of them are comfortable with each other and I can develop the stalker plot more. Prepare yourselves and enjoy!

** Day 7: The Ice Melt **

When Damen woke up the next morning the first thing he remembered was the brief phone call from the night before and he checked his phone immediately to see if the pretty, witty rent boy had contacted him again. No such luck.

Despite the poor way they had ended the day yesterday, Damen still insisted on cooking breakfast for Laurent in hopes of mending opinions.

In a bold move, Damen selected the bananas, oats, and other ingredients and began to blend them, heedless of the noise the blender made. As he was spooning his concoction onto the griddle, he felt a twinge of something. There had been no noise, not even of breath, and no telltale smell of cologne, but some primeval part of him just _knew_. Like the needle of a compass, inexorably following the cold north, he could just feel it in the fibers of his body that Laurent was standing near him. In another life he might have made an excellent spy, what with his unusual stealth…that or a cat…

He had tried the night before to think of something soothing and heartfelt to say to Laurent the next time they were in the same room together, but all he could manage was:

“Good morning Laurent.”

There was a long moment of strained silence where Damen wasn’t sure if Laurent was going to respond. But then there was the scraping sound of a chair being dragged out from the table and Damen exhaled through gritted teeth. He hadn’t been aware that he had been holding his breath.

“You are annoyingly persistent.”

Only after hearing Laurent’s voice did Damen feel safe enough to turn and have a look. He could not help himself and sucked in air at the sight.

Laurent looked like hell. His hair had been brushed but it barely concealed the fact that it must have been truly wild when he first woke up. His blue eyes were dull and flat and there were large dark circles under his eyes. He gave away no emotion on his fine face but his body radiated exhaustion. Damen almost suggested that they stay home from class today and rest, but he did not want to push his luck.

Instead he turned back to the food with full intent of making it as perfect as he could.

Now that Damen was aware of his presence, Laurent allowed himself to make noise. He flicked pages in audible annoyance and actually groaned a little as he massaged his temples. Damen tried to remain quiet, even as he ground up berries into a paste in Laurent’s marble pestle.

Two plates were set on the table and Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose, his long blond eyelashes sweeping against his cheek. “And what are you going to force down my throat this morning?”

“I’ll do no such thing.” Damen replied. “You’d bite my fingers off.”

Laurent smiled in a Cheshire grin, as though that would be exactly what would happen. The smiled waned as oatmeal banana pancakes appeared in a steaming stack before him, crushed berries and honey bleeding down the sides and into the soft discs. He fixed Damen with an exasperated glare.

“Are you serious?”

“I can,” Damen almost interrupted Laurent’s statement as he began to saw into his own stack, “eat twenty pancakes in one sitting. You have three in front of you. Eat them if you want. If not, I will relieve you of them and you can make your own food.”

Based on his previous meals, Damen got the distinct impression that Laurent did not particularly like preparing food. It cut into his reading time.

The rest of breakfast was carried out in silence but Laurent ate those goddamn pancakes.

As a way to reward him for not wasting food Damen did most of his duties for the day in silence. He cleaned the dishes without a single inquiry, silently escorted Laurent to class and did not breathe a word about Laurent’s paltry choice of lunch. He even chose a book to read during their near-daily two hours in the library, ignoring the furtive glances Laurent occasionally shot him over his own book.

“I didn’t know you were able to read,” Laurent quipped softly.

Damen only smiled and inclined his head to let Laurent know that his insult had been heard. It must have been highly perplexing for Laurent.

But Damen’s will did not break until they reached Laurent’s apartment again. After three days of ignoring the mailbox, their luck had finally run out. Laurent stopped so abruptly that Damen actually bumped into him. In the face of a possible threat, Damen moved on autopilot.

In one smooth motion Damen hooked his left arm around Laurent’s slim waist and yanked him backwards. Laurent stumbled, but Damen steadied him by pushing back with his entire body so that Laurent was pinned against the wall with Damen’s entire body acting as a shield. No one could see him and no one could touch him. Somehow his taser had ended up in his palm with the safety switched off but the electricity still not turned on. His body was tensed for a fight.

It was only after a few moments of no attack that Damen finally relaxed and actually got his bearings. Laurent must have been pressed behind him at a poor angle, because he was on his toes with trembling knees and was gripping huge handfuls of Damen’s shirt to keep from sliding to the floor. The lobby was completely empty.

However, Damen saw what had caused Laurent to halt in his tracks.

After making sure Laurent was steady on his feet, Damen looked him straight in the eye and said in his most dangerous tone, “ _Wait here_.”

He walked over to the mailboxes to where the familiar yellow notebook paper was taped onto Laurent’s door. Ah, the usual scribbled madness…Damen had not missed it, especially as he began to read.

There was the typical smut, the violent ranting and raving about Laurent refusing to check his mail, and thinly veiled threats but the last sentence gave Damen a chill. He was so infuriated, he did not even notice as Laurent ignored his warning and brushed up behind him.

‘ _You had better not be alone again._ ’

All the panic he felt in the afternoon Laurent disappeared rushed back into his chest and throat. Laurent plucked the paper from his hands before he could stop it.

“Laurent.”

Laurent read, seemingly uncaring but his knuckles were a little whiter than usual.

“Laurent, I won’t let him touch you.” Damen hissed, his anger finding an outlet in the writer of the ‘letter’. “I’ll _kill him_ before he touches you.”

After he had finished reading, Laurent ripped it neatly in half and his gaze was surprisingly clear. “It…looks like I will not be alone again for the foreseeable future. My selfishness has come to an end.” He quartered the paper.

It must have been very hard for proud, introverted Laurent to admit something like that, so Damen hesitantly patted him on the shoulder in an attempt to soothe.

When they arrived back in Laurent’s room, Laurent threw the scraps in the trash and Damen wordlessly went to the kitchen to chop the vegetables for dinner. He did not trust himself to comment any more on the most recent piece of ‘mail’. Laurent, it seemed, had something else on his mind.

He crossed his arms and legs in a gesture that was meant to look leisurely but _dripped_ with defensiveness. His glare was at once curious and hostile. “You are still angry then.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Damen asked, genuinely curious.

Laurent raised one eyebrow in a lovely golden arch and began to tick off his reasons on long, milky fingers. “You did not dissuade me from eating lunch, you have not called my brother with complaints and---most unusual of all---you have not asked me a single fucking question since yesterday.”

“You want me to ask you questions?”

“I want to know why you have not left.”

Damen turned and wondered how many more times he had to say it before that brilliant, wicked mind made way for it. “I have no intention of leaving as I swore I wouldn’t let anyone touch you. I also have every intention of asking you enough questions to make you scream. You just…you looked…very _tired_ this morning. I felt guilty for not giving you space yesterday and…you ate your pancakes.”

Whatever reasons Laurent was expecting, it certainly wasn’t the ones Damen gave.

When Laurent spoke, it was very, very slowly as if he was trying to comprehend the words while he spoke them. “I…ate…pancakes?”

Damen turned around to continue chopping vegetables. Truth be told, he didn’t think he could find the courage to speak his mind while under scrutiny. “I know you hate when I ask you questions and cook you meals but…it must be quite stressful to have someone in your home all the time and to have someone stalking you. I thought asking you questions might take your mind off of…things. And the food is just my way of making myself useful.” He left out certain things; like the fact that Laurent looked healthier after eating substantial meals or that he liked to ask questions because he liked the sound of Laurent’s voice and wanted to learn more about him for future reference.

No…those minor details were best left unsaid…

There was a long, awkward silence and Damen felt as though his back was being burned with a stare. He stopped chopping just in case Laurent did something startling and the knife slipped.

“I see.”

Damen glanced to see and Laurent only looked thoughtful, a little furrow appearing on his brow. “Laurent?” Blue eyes flicked up and they were wary in the face of an inevitable question. “Do you want me to leave you?”

“ _Would_ you leave me?” Laurent asked, a challenge in his voice.

Damen thought about it and this time he actually turned so that Laurent could see the myriad of emotions that went across his face. “No,” he admitted finally. “No, even if you ordered me to go and Auguste attempted to kick me out of your apartment---and he couldn’t, because he’s a bitch---I wouldn’t leave you. I swore to you I wouldn’t let your stalker get his hands on you and I intend to keep that promise. No…I won’t leave you.”

Laurent took it all in and Damen hoped that his constant noble intentions had overshadowed any admiring glances he had ever shot in Laurent’s direction.

Finally, he nodded. “In all honesty…if you leave, I will be brutally raped. It is as he said: I cannot be alone again.”

“Laurent, I---.”

“I know, I know.” Laurent said in defeat, waving his hand as though it did not concern him. “Something, something, no touching, correct? If you insist on staying around at least make sure your meals are not tasteless lumps.”

Damen could only nod, but fireworks were going off inside of his mind.

He had gotten Laurent’s express permission to stay. Laurent was no longer angry with him. He had (sort of?) gotten permission to continue his cooking. Perhaps even for a moment Laurent actually believed that Damen would protect him from the monster lurking outside. Slowly but surely that alabaster shell was cracking and Damen’s sincerity was seeping in.

Such progress had been made that Damen decided to give Laurent a break from all the questions that had amassed in his mind in the past fifteen minutes. Instead, he focused on making dinner as perfect as possible so that Laurent could have no reason to complain and Damen could pose his questions then.

Dinner this evening was a sauté of garlic turkey sausage and kale with chips of fresh parmesan cheese sprinkled on top.

Unlike before, where Damen had tried to sneak the food onto Laurent’s plate while he was distracted, today Laurent waited expectantly for the food to be placed in front of him. Damen watched him carefully; apparently Laurent still refused to believe Damen liked eating vegetables and there was a surprised quirk of his eyebrow as he saw the pile of warm greens.

Damen took his seat and then prepared himself for a possible explosion.

“Now that we’re back on speaking terms,” Damen struggled not to laugh as Laurent’s fork jerked at the sound of Damen’s voice, “am I allowed to ask you questions?”

Laurent chewed thoughtfully as though he was mulling it over, but in all honesty he had already made up his mind and was probably forcing Damen to wait on him. “You will never let this die…so I suppose I shall have to compromise for the sake of my sanity. You can ask me six questions, _but_ I can choose not to answer them if they are idiotic or private. Also what you just asked me counts as one question so you are down to five.” His smile was both sharp and sweet and Damen imagined that he would purr in self-satisfaction if his body would allow it.

“That’s hardly fair, but seeing as how it’s the first time you’ve allowed such a thing, I won’t complain.” Damen responded, feeling himself smile at the banter. He also allowed Laurent a few more bites while he formulated some questions that had built up during his silence in the past twenty-four hours. Watching him eat gave Damen his first question. “What kind of foods do you like? I noticed that your meals tend to be a bit…bland.” Fond of savory meats and thick sauces, Damen would hate to eat the simple, flavorless meals Laurent tended to make for himself.

Something very dark passed through Laurent’s eyes before he could compose himself. His chewing slowed a little but Damen waited patiently.

“I…have never really thought about what foods I like.” He said finally, each word sounding as though he had had to yank it deep out of the pit of his stomach. “I just…see it as a means to an end. If I don’t eat, I’ll die, so I must eat.”

“You seem to like vegetables,” Damen offered in an attempt to push for more information, “and things that are a little sweet.”

“If you already know the answer to your own question, then why did you ask?”

“Because I’d like to cook things I know you will eat and enjoy. Or avoid the things that you dislike…” It seemed that Laurent had such strong preferences for most things, that he would have some sort of opinion on his food.

Laurent pushed his food around errantly, but it did appear he was making an effort to answer. “….No candy.” He replied after a long pause. “I _hate_ it.”

“I cannot very well cook candy.” Damen offered in an attempt at humor.

“Mmmph.” Was the noncommittal reply and Damen could not help but feel he had wasted a precious question on so paltry an answer. “Four left.” He took a moment before asking his second question.

“May I ask, why you hate seeing Paschal so much?” Damen was curious but he was trying to put this question in a delicate way. It was too intrusive even by Damen’s blunt standards to ask outright why Laurent was in therapy and he felt everyone was entitled to privacy about their struggles, but he wondered why someone so amiable as Paschal seemed to ruin Laurent’s entire day. And Laurent was an adult; if he hated it so much, why did he continue to go?

“ _Denied_.” Laurent hissed, slapping his fork down on the table.

Golden hackles raised, Damen nodded in acknowledgment and ate another bite of his own dinner. He had expected Laurent to shoot this question down but it had been worth a shot. “Never mind. I won’t ask again, I swear…Does Auguste visit you often?”

“Not really these days.” Laurent’s voice was a little above a whisper. “What with his working in our father’s company, looking into the bastard who’s following me, and me being in school…it is hard to meet. And it seems…each time we meet we cannot help but argue…”

“It's natural, isn’t it? For brothers to argue.” Damen responded in an attempt to bring up the mood. “Though I can understand how easy it is to argue with Auguste. Your brother invites rage and argumentation in my personal experience. Kas---my brother and I had our fair share of arguments as youths and even to this day we don’t…see eye to eye…” There was a twinge of bitterness at the thought of Kastor and the last argument they had engaged in.

The last time they had argued was about…her, and neither one had been able to speak in a civil tone since. The last time they spoke, Kastor had been gloating, Damen fuming…Not a pleasant memory…

“I didn’t ask,” Laurent responded lightly. “And that counted as two questions. Two left.”

Damen cursed himself inwardly for not taking care with his words and for, once again, allowing Laurent to expertly dodge a straight answer. Instead, Damen had just talked about his own experiences and was now down to two questions. He had to think ahead; like a game of chess he had to think two moves ahead of Laurent.

After a few more moments of introspection and the appearance of the leftover yogurt mixed with lemon zest and blackberries, Damen had another thought that had tugged at his memory. “You remember me from when we were children.” He did not phrase it as a question, as part of him knew it was true, and the left side of Laurent’s mouth quirked up in a wicked smile. “What did you think of me?”

Damen could still not remember Laurent ever being present at any functions he and Auguste had played in and he wondered what Laurent had been like at that time. Probably milky and pink-cheeked and pouting…

Laurent bit his bottom lip as if that would prevent the words from coming out.

“Of course I remember you. You were the asshole who monopolized Auguste whenever the two of you were in the same room together. I couldn’t get his attention again until you had left.” He licked a spot of yogurt from the corner of his mouth. “I distinctly remember hating you.”

Damen twisted his lips at such an unsatisfactory answer.

“I doubt that I’m so hateful.” Damen responded, followed by a small noise from Laurent. “I have the feeling that you’re lying to me…but I can also see that despite your current arguments, you love Auguste very much.”

A flash of distrusting blue and the fluffing of an imaginary golden tail. “Any person with eyes could notice such a thing.”

 _Then why are you actively avoiding and picking fights with him_? Damen thought to himself. Laurent’s nature was duplicitous and serpentine to begin with, and he would definitely not appreciate someone coming to this conclusion about him. Therefore he left this question unsaid. It would only result in a lie or a careful sidestep.

Another piece of the puzzle that he could only hope would sort itself out the longer they were together.

But Laurent had a surprise in store. Perhaps in hope of turning Damen away from puzzling out his personality, he engaged Damen with another question. “And you do not love Kastor?”

It was obviously meant to be a biting, bitter question, as who could imagine loving a brother who actively sought his downfall? But Damen would not be baited into being hurt. Now it was his turn to eat and think.

“I…did. I did love Kastor but…even my patience has a limit.” Maybe it was because Laurent was a cold, callous bitch at times or that he did not know or care about Damen’s family, but Damen felt a sense of relief opening up without having to temper his opinions. It would worry the people around him if he were to trust them with this, but Laurent was refreshing in just how little he cared. “You might understand as a younger brother but I always wanted his approval. It was a hard thing to…to come to terms with the idea that he has never wanted me to succeed. It undermines his own goals.”

“Then leave the company.” Laurent said dismissively.

“I like my line of work.” Damen insisted. “I like protecting you.” Laurent crossed his arms at this pronouncement and Damen continued. “ _And_ others. I like making sure people feel safe. Nothing else suits me, I think. What was it you said? It’s more of a passion.”

Laurent’s whole body twitched at the mention of his own words. “Yes…” He finally admitted. “I also cannot imagine you doing anything else.”

Damen glowed a little at the ‘compliment’. “Kastor has…taken a lot of things from me…important things, but I always have hope that we can reconcile.”

“Then you are altogether too optimistic for the cutthroat world of business.” Laurent responded, pushing his empty yogurt bowl aside. “I am amazed guarding people has not quashed it out of you entirely.”

“And you are altogether too negative to work with children, in my opinion.” Damen shot back. “Yet here we are.”

Laurent quirked a quick smile at Damen’s wit. “At least I am intelligent enough to hide it well.” Damen remembered Laurent at the party and how he had charmed everyone. He nodded at the truth of it and Laurent coughed to cover what Damen suspected was a laugh. “Even now _your_ face hides nothing.”

“Forgive me for my honesty.” Damen said, a little sourness creeping into his tone as he collected the empty plates.

It wasn’t so much he was angry at Laurent’s teasing, he was just frustrated that Laurent was so unreadable, despite his best efforts, and Laurent was able to understand Damen so easily. The plates clinked together in the sink as a small sign of his irritation. He almost dropped one of the bowls as Laurent plucked a clean one out of the soapy water.

“You need not gape.” Laurent mentioned as he dried the bowl with deft hands. “Though I have a dishwasher, I know how to dry a bowl.”

Damen was staring in bold-faced shock, but not over Laurent’s dish-drying abilities, but over the fact that Laurent had not yet helped Damen with the dishes up until this very moment. They were so close he could brush against Laurent if he wasn’t careful…but he was careful and kept his distance.

When Damen did not respond, the two of them moved in efficient silence. Laurent was inscrutable and Damen was wondering why the golden hellcat had decided to brush up against him.

Laurent must have felt the confusion radiating off of him, because he spoke unprompted again. “You have one question left.”

He had this one saved for last. “May I ask you six more questions during dinner tomorrow?” Simple, sweet, and could only be answered by a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, Damen felt that he had somehow thrown Laurent off again. He was chewing at his bottom lip in contemplation.

“The…same rules have to apply but…yes…until you irritate me…you can.”

Damen had to try extremely hard not to grin and let Laurent see just how ecstatic he was at this development. If it wouldn’t end with one of the fine china bowls being broken over his head, he might have ruffled Laurent’s hair. Instead, he just nodded in thanks and continued to wash the plates.

It was a dangerous thing Damen was doing, to disregard one of his normally-ironclad rules for work but…

Looking down at Laurent, he thought that it might be worth it.

 

That evening Laurent did not complain as Damen sat next to him on the couch and began to chat with his coworkers as he normally did. A quick glance at Laurent gave Damen pause, as there was something different about him on this particular evening.

Though he sat on the far end of the couch---as far from Damen as he could possibly be---his posture was more relaxed than it had ever been in the past. His arms and legs were uncrossed without his usual defensive pose, and after a wholesome dinner and a distinct lack of argumentation, his complexion looked remarkably healthy.

Damen would have like to stare at longer intervals but he did not want to see Laurent curl up into a ball either. He forced himself to stay focused on his phone. His phone buzzed impatiently in his hand.

He let out a very uncharacteristic squeak as he saw Nicaise’s name emblazoned across the screen.

Laurent looked up from his book, his eyes flickering with a bit of concern. His muscles were coiled tight as if he would leap from the couch and Damen inwardly cursed Nicaise for inadvertently startling Laurent.

“Everything’s fine,” Damen insisted, trying to make sure his face was smooth and unbothered. He remembered that Laurent had made a jab about Damen being remarkably transparent. “My coworkers have just…sent me a photo of ummm…well you see it’s a…”

He was stalling for time, but Laurent must have seen something in his expression because he scoffed. “By god, you can say ‘dick’. I have one of my own so it’s hardly scandalous.” After rolling his eyes, Laurent went back to his book.

Damen breathed a sigh of relief; Laurent must have taken his flustered appearance and assumed it was due to him receiving nude photos---which honestly, would normally be the case with his group---and had decided not to pry further. Someday he would tell Laurent about Nicaise and Erasmus, but for now he would spare Laurent any more stress.

As Laurent went back to reading, Damen glanced back at his phone, making sure to angle it away from Laurent.

‘ _I’m going to call you tomorrow. You’d better be prepared and make sure your friend isn’t around._ ’

Damen’s typing was fast and insistent. ‘ _What time? How did you know I have someone with me? Are you ok?_ ’

‘ _You certainly ask a lot of questions._ ’ Nicaise interrupted his steady stream of questions with a very Laurent-like statement. ‘ _I didn’t know you had someone with you. Lucky guess. Also I don’t know when I’ll message you. You’ll have to fucking wait until I wake up._ ’

Damen rolled his eyes. Lazy little brat. He did not exactly relish the thought of carrying on a conversation with a rent boy while Laurent was sitting right next to him. He prayed that Nicaise’s timing was convenient just once so that he could talk without worry.

‘ _I’ll try my best…’_

‘ _No,’_ Nicaise responded with the easy, steeled authority of a seasoned prostitute, ‘ _you’re elite. I heard from those incompetent bastards you sent looking for me. If you have the money and skills worth bragging about, I’m sure you’ll find a way or whoever has hired you is paying too much.’_ He followed this up with an ironic smiley face and Damen was actually kind of glad that they were not meeting face to face. He felt more than a twinge of irritation at Nicaise’s salty personality.

Laurent was similar in biting wit but there was a limit to how cheeky young boys could be before they got their ass kicked.

‘ _Fine, I will figure something out. I have a lot of things I want to ask you.’_

‘ _I cannot wait_.’ The sarcasm was clear even across text message and Damen heard no more from the lovely boy after that. The whole situation vexed him so much that he had to take a break from even looking at his phone…

…He must have rested his head on his hand a little too long, because he woke from a comfortable sleep about thirty minutes later with drool running down his forearm in a slippery rivulet and his phone on the floor. He wiped his arm clean, retrieved his phone, and looked around in the daze only a deep nap could bring about.

Laurent had also fallen asleep next to him, and had slumped closer to Damen so that the two of them were almost touching. His chin was resting against his chest and his hair covered his face in a sleek golden curtain. Damen was overcome with warm fondness at the sight.

He wanted to let Laurent sleep there for the rest of the night but once again it was more comforting to sleep in a bed.

“Laurent, _Laurent_.” When he did not stir, Damen gently rubbed Laurent’s foot until Laurent raised his head and opened one of his eyes. “You fell asleep again. Perhaps…”

“Yes,” Laurent whispered. “I’ll leave you your bed.”

As he stood, his foot must have fallen asleep and he stumbled a little. With athletic ease, Damen lurched forward and caught Laurent by the elbow, steadying him. Laurent inhaled softly and Damen released him, even though his fingers felt as though they had been scorched. He smiled up at Laurent, remembering the calm, amiable day they had shared together.

“Goodnight Laurent. I will see you in the morning. And I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

It could have been a trick of the light, but Damen thought he saw Laurent smile for a split second at his nightly reminder. “Funny…I had completely forgotten that someone was…stalking me. I never thought it would slip my mind.” He stared at Damen with a curious expression and then nodded in acknowledgment.

On that note, he went to bed and Damen lay on the couch, brimming with joy.

 


	9. Day 8: The First Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back from Spring Break and a 25 km (15 mile) bike ride through the mountains. Which means: a. my legs will be dead tomorrow, b. I haven't been able to write these past 3 days. I will do my best to get back on track to get you the next chapter in 4 days...  
> ANYWAY, NICAISE! To be honest, as much as the fandom loves him, I was never a huge fan (when it comes to secondary characters I am all about Erasmus). But he didn't deserve what he got...He's a precocious little brat in my story and I guarantee he will give Damen his fair share of headaches, sans fork ;)  
> Also about the dream...all will be revealed in time. I love you all but no spoilers this time; only speculation!  
> Hope you guys enjoy!

** Day 8: The First Taken **

Damen did not know who came up with the term ‘lazy slut’ nor did he ever use it, as he found escorts and strippers in the clubs to be extremely hardworking. However, he found it a little fitting for Nicaise, in that he did not hear from the boy until well after noon. Typical of a young boy, he apparently liked to sleep in.

If Laurent noticed that Damen checked his phone more often than usual, he made no mention of it; Damen felt the discomfort of it more acutely. When a bodyguard was on edge, it put the client on edge and such a thing was highly unprofessional. Still…he did not want to miss this phone call and, as a result, miss some potentially crucial information about what he and Laurent were up against.

Luckily, as it was a Friday afternoon, the library was nearly empty. Most normal students with friends and a social life were vacating the campus in preparation for pre-gaming and house parties, bar crawls and pulsing nightclubs in hopes of irritating Nikandros. It was probably a lifestyle young Nicaise was sadly familiar with, but Laurent had no interest in. He seemed to prefer a library to mingling with other students.

Despite being such an enormous nerd, Laurent did look very much at ease with no one else around to interrupt him. He had chosen a warm seat nestled into the window frame, one that afforded him an occasional breeze and plenty of sunlight. Damen had a hard time focusing on his own book when he could watch the astonishing way the sun got caught Laurent’s long hair and made it glisten in a bright prism of whites and yellows and gold. Damen was nearly blinded by the sight of it and he had to fight from making an unthinking sound of delight when Laurent curled some errant strands behind his ear.

Damen was jolted out of his golden daze by the buzzing of his phone and when he looked at the screen, he was greeted by a message from elusive Nicaise:

‘ _I’m going to call you in one minute. You had better find a way to be alone by then._ ’

Damen leapt to his feet in immediate response, getting Laurent’s attention. “I’ll be right outside in the hall. I have to make a private phone call. It’s the only entrance to this room so…you can rest easy.”

Laurent looked at him with unabashed disgust. “Have you no shame? Making phone calls in a library…”

“You are the only one here to be bothered,” Damen laughed, “and I will stay well out of earshot, I swear.” That was precisely his intent anyways.

He took one last glance at Laurent before walking out of the room and into the empty hallway where he could retain some privacy, but still make sure no one went into the same room as Laurent without Damen noticing.

It was nearly perfect timing.

As he settled himself on one of the wooden chairs surrounding a large study table, his phone began to ring with the sound of someone attempting to video chat with him.

After looking around once more to make sure he was really and truly alone, Damen accepted the call and waited for the camera to connect.

He sucked in air at the sight of Nicaise.

Even when Nicaise had been exhausted and furious in his police photo, his exceptional beauty had been undeniable, and now that he was clean and well rested it was almost bewitching to see him.

The first thing Damen noted were the eyes.

Damen had thought Erasmus’ amber eyes were exotic and lovely, but it was nothing in comparison to Nicaise. Ringed by thick, dark lashes, his eyes were wide and arresting in the most impossible shade of aquamarine---that pale blue touched with a shade of even paler green. He looked very delicate in the throes of youth, with his fine, clear skin stretched firm and his pretty face hinting at just the slightest bit of teenage sharpness growing.

His face had perfect balance, the upturn of his eyebrows making him appear sweet, the perfect tousling of his dark brown hair creating a want to smooth it down… At his shop he would have been made up with a painted face and beautiful clothes, but even the lack of them could not hide the fact that his lovely face was completely natural, even when unpolished.

Save for Laurent, who had no equal, Nicaise was possibly the most exquisite person Damen had ever seen.

Then he spoke and the spell was broken. “Hello, you annoying cunt. I had thought when my previous coworkers said I had a stalker I would find someone old, ugly, and rich. Imagine my surprise when I find I am wrong. You don’t look very wealthy at all.”

Damen ignored the jabs. He was actually getting quite good at it, and instead focused on keeping a civil tone and a smooth expression in face of such a poisonous kid. “Hello, Nicaise. Nice to finally meet you.”

Nicaise was obviously lounging on his bed and he tossed his head in a careless way he had probably learned at ‘work’. “I just want you to know that you and your minions are so inept, that if I hadn’t intervened, you never would have found me.” Damen was about to argue in defense of his friends but Nicaise saw his intent and interrupted. “You sent a twink to my shop,” Damen apologized to Pallas in his mind, “looking nervous as a virgin in bed and younger than forty? I’m amazed he wasn’t laughed out onto the street.”

Damen grimaced at the inferred depiction of Nicaise’s normal clientele, but Nicaise seemed not to care.

“You all wouldn’t have found me anyways.”

“And why is that?” Damen finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

Nicaise grinned with a prideful sort of relief. “I am somewhat retired from entertaining rich perverts.” He shook his head as if he could not believe it but perhaps it was just a move to recollect his thoughts. His eyes shimmered with familiar distrust. “Enough about that. Why the fuck have you been hunting me?”

“I’ve not been _hunting_ you,” Damen insisted, “I have no interest in your…services.” It was of his own personal opinion that any person who bought the aforementioned services of a child should be relieved of their dick. “I need your help and if it’s ok with you, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Nicaise looked at him with undisguised distrust. Damen could hardly blame him; probably many clients came to him under the guise of ‘talking’.

“Two thousand.” Came the reply after a moment of contemplation.

“Excuse me?”

“Two thousand dollars.” Nicaise repeated slowly. “Are those ears just for show?”

“Are you _serious_?” Damen was flabbergasted.

“Two thousand dollars for thirty minutes of my time.” Nicaise said while looking at his fingernails. “If you’re just about talking then I will answer all your questions to the best of my abilities. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a bargain. I used to charge fifteen for just one hour of my time. Consider it my thanks for not being interested in fucking me. If your cock is proportional to the rest of your body, I might have had to go to the hospital.”

“ _Please stop speaking_.” Damen begged. He did not like to hear such filth from a kid.

“Once the deposit hits I’ll do whatever you like. Stop speaking, talking dirty, I’ll sing like a goddamn canary. But I refuse to do _anything_ for free. I am not going back.” His vehemence was a testament to that.

“Fine, fine. I understand.” Damen sighed and Nicaise smiled triumphantly. “Give me a day or two to get it together.”

“Good.” Nicaise sat up in his bed and looked like he had prepared himself for this moment. “Until then, I have some things I want to ask _you_. Who are you? Why have you been searching for me?”

Although it was probably not the best course of action, Damen saw no other choice and this Nicaise could probably smell bullshit from a mile away. “My name is Damianos.” When he mentioned the name of his company, Nicaise’s eyes actually grew wide with recognition and the glaring fact that Damen might not be so poor as he let on. He had apparently heard of the place or…Damen was repulsed by the idea that one of his directors had bought Nicaise before. “I’ve been hired by to protect someone.”

Once again Nicaise had a visible reaction upon hearing the name of Laurent’s family company, as he was much worse at hiding his emotions than Laurent was. His face went very white and then flushed a shameful red. Damen felt sorry that he might be opening a painful wound, but…he wanted this kid to believe him.

“The same man who assaulted you, has raped two others and now he’s after my client. I am going to make absolutely sure that no one touches my client and so…I wanted to contact you to see if you had any information on the culprit. Your police file was severely lacking.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Nicaise made a small gasp of surprise and then he looked like he was barely capable of speaking due to shock and anger.

“How…did you get…my police file?”

“It was given to me.” Damen sighed. “By the person who hired me. They wanted me to see how the stalker operated, to notice patterns I should avoid. It said you weren’t raped, thank god, but…almost nothing else. I thought…maybe because of your line of work…nobody believed you…”

Nicaise was pretty transparent, as it appeared Damen had hit the nail on the head with his guess. “Wow I fucking hate you right now. Of all the things…it had to be about this? And to think I was sworn to secrecy too…”

“What do you mean by that?” Damen asked feeling a bit of panic swell in his chest.

“ _Ughhhh_.” Nicaise groaned, his pretty lips curling into a grimace. “I told you no questions until you paid me but I’ll answer this one at least. Right after that disgusting fucker put his hands on me, I did go to the police. And you’re right. Those pigs didn’t believe me, they laughed at me and told me I had it coming.” His face was flushing high in color over the indignity of it all. “When I heard about the second victim I tried to go back again but this time…I was paid to not tell them what I knew. I asked a lot---enough to keep me quiet---and they paid it.”

“And you left.” Damen continued. He was full of questions he’d have to write down later. Someone was paying Nicaise to stay quiet on the whole situation and he wanted to know who it was.

“No. A young, rich man came in after a while to pay for me to leave. Said he’d pay me an allowance each month for the rest of my life, with no strings attached, no sex, so long as I would help him when the time is right. Those types are rare in my line of work.” Damen, for a moment, thought of Auguste…perhaps paying recompense for the sins of another? “So I left. And I haven’t looked back.” Then he looked up and glared accusingly at Damen. “Until you and your bastards decided to tear apart the town looking for me. Now you’ve dragged me back into this shit, you giant cunt.”

“My deepest apologies.” Damen said and he actually meant it. He felt pretty guilty for pulling Nicaise back into this mess. But now he knew someone was covering this

“But you are going to trust me.” He posed this sort of like a question; Nicaise probably didn’t like to be ordered about and he had barred Damen from asking questions.

“If you pay me…I’ll trust you.” Nicaise sneered. “Since you’re a bodyguard, you’ve spent some time in my part of town. You should know that anything can be bought. Even the truth.”

Damen felt a pang of regret despite Nicaise’s filthy mouth. The poor, beautiful kid was simply a product of his environment so Damen tried not to be annoyed after being called a cunt.

“I understand. I’ll wire you the money and then we can find a time to chat.”

Nicaise’s smile took on a bitter edge. “Perhaps I should have asked for more since you gave up so easily. Is two thousand such a paltry amount for you, young master?” There was an undercurrent of jealousy, as he probably assumed Damen had never wanted for anything or felt desperation in his entire life. In comparison to Nicaise’s situation, Damen’s life was better by far.

“I’m a bodyguard.” Damen replied with his gentlest smile. “It brings me joy to protect people and I am quite fond of my current client. Two thousand is something I am willing to pay to keep him safe. I only wish…”

Looking at this cheeky kid, Damen sort of wished he had been able to keep Nicaise safe as well. Safe from his own clients…but it was an expensive luxury Nicaise couldn’t afford and he would definitely not appreciate the sentiment.

Nicaise looked disgusted. “God I hate you more than I thought I would.”

And he hung up the video call without another word.

It was such a remarkably Laurent-like move that Damen was shocked into laughter. _Hellkitten_ , was all he could think of when he recalled that delicate face and those wary, furious aqua eyes. In any case, he owed the boy two thousand for the multitude of questions that had suddenly occurred to him after their conversation.

He returned to Laurent, who was still relaxing in the sun.

Laurent did not look up upon Damen’s reentry but flipped a page of his book. “Did you resolve your problems with that private phone call?”

“As a matter of fact, no.” Damen said, taking a seat. The beauty of Nicaise faded away in his mind when confronted with Laurent’s golden glow. “It seems that my problems have multiplied in both quantity and price…”

Laurent shrugged, unbothered by the problems of others.

When the two of them returned to Laurent’s apartment, there was no notebook paper taped to the front of the mailbox and neither one of them made a move to go look inside. Damen assumed that they wouldn’t be looking inside again in the near future. They were silent together until reaching the inside of the apartment, which gave Laurent pause.

He saw the oddly shaped packages on the counter where the grocery bags usually sat. “What…is all this?”

“Oh,” Damen glanced in nonchalance, pleased to see the book on the counter; the maid must have followed his directions and retrieved the cookbook from headquarters. “That? I thought since it’s Friday and you’ve managed to survive longer than a week with me, I’d make something more complicated for dinner. Do you like wine?”

Laurent narrowed his eyes in distrust but made no motion to dissuade Damen. Instead he tossed his keys on the table and moved off to his room.

But there were some universal truths about cats---even ones from hell---and none could withstand the smell of fish for too long. Luckily the two Damen had ordered to be purchased had already been gutted, so that the meal would be somewhat easier than usual to prepare. He started with the vegetables since they needed hours to cook and saved the fish until about an hour before dinner. He checked his new cookbook just to make sure the recipe was right.

The moment the vegetables had been removed and the smell of baking fish wafted throughout the apartment, Laurent reemerged, sniffing intently.

Damen smiled at his reappearance. Though in his younger days he would have preferred to be out with friends or other college students in the bars and clubs, now he found a surprising solace in staying home on a Friday night, cooking dinner for a person he liked. He had not felt this since…well, not in a long time anyway.

“What are you making?” Laurent finally asked in admittance to the fact that his intelligence did not cover Greek cuisine.

“You like vegetables so I made you _briami_ ,” Damen motioned to the steaming pan, “zucchini, potatoes, onions, cheese…and I thought it would go nicely with fish so I cooked some sea bass. We call it ‘ _lavraki_ ’.” He saw Laurent say the words under his breath, rolling them around on his tongue as if getting a taste for them. “There’s some red wine if you want to drink while you wait.” Damen actually had no idea whether or not someone as tightly wound as Laurent liked alcohol.

By the time the fish was finished and had been removed from the oven to cool, Laurent had opened the bottle and poured himself a small glass. He had not put it to his lips but was looking at it as though it was filled with poison.

He perked up when the warm plate of fish and vegetables was placed in front of him, and Damen imagined soft, golden ears flicking with excitement. He ached to ruffle Laurent’s hair in search for them, but he withheld.

Damen secretly congratulated himself on the quality of the food as the crispy skin of the fish cracked open to reveal the soft, flavorful white flesh. His taste had also held with the vegetables, as they tasted almost exactly how he remembered them.

To allow Laurent time to savor the food, Damen withheld his barrage of questions until after the first few bites.

“Question one,” Damen said as Laurent was off-guard, a forkful of zucchini halfway to his mouth, “why don’t you like wine?”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Laurent asked, a challenge in his voice.

“Because I have had two glasses already and you have not touched yours. You’ve only glared at it. It’s ok if you don’t like the taste, you need not force yourself, but I’m just wondering why?”

As if solely to be contrary, Laurent raised the wine glass to his lips and took a reluctant drink. He did not look like he enjoyed the experience at all. When he set the glass back down it was with a look of faint distaste, perhaps over the sour vintage. “I’ve had wine…before but I dislike waking up with…regret.”

A lightweight then. “You drank too much.” Damen guessed without actually posing it as a question. “I can understand that. When I first drank I thought my head might explode the next morning.”

“It was not a problem of quantity.” Laurent replied, his voice fading to a thoughtful whisper. “I was just…quite young…”

Damen could not imagine Laurent going out on the town so he must have had too much to drink at a family function and then woken up the next morning with his first hangover. How embarrassing.

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. You need not drink any more.”

“It’s fine.” His tone was sharp.

“Ok, ok moving on.” Damen took another bite of fish and washed it down with his own wine. “What do you have planned for us tomorrow? It is the weekend after all.” More than anything he was asking to see if there would be a time when he could slip away discreetly to wire Nicaise his money.

Laurent actually smiled wide. “Oh you’ll definitely like it. Tomorrow we’re eating dinner with Auguste. So you don’t need to worry about preparing a menu.” Damen tried and failed to keep a bitter amalgam of annoyance, shock, and disgust off of his face at the mention of spending a prolonged period of time with Auguste.

“ _Fuck_ …” Damen whispered through gritted teeth.

“Yes, fuck indeed. I am extremely excited to see which one of you fucking flips the table first. I would imagine you. Auguste has a very heavy table.”

“Allow me to change the subject before I practice with your table.” Damen snapped and Laurent looked like he was trying to suppress a burst of giggles. “This has been confusing me for a while, but why don’t you have a cell phone?”

The smile vanished as instantly as it had come. “You certainly are asking some very personal questions this evening. Would it sate you to say that I think they’re annoying?”

“No,” Damen said, “but I won’t push you if you don’t want to answer.”

Laurent sighed and shot a suspicious look at Damen. “I…had one a while ago but…I disliked the thought that someone could steal it or hack into it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not fond of people being able to read my innermost thoughts.”

“You don’t say,” Damen responded sarcastically. “But that was a good bit a foresight. It’s one less thing that your stalker could use against you, I guess…”

Laurent hesitated. “Oh…the stalker, yeah…”

Damen felt a little pleased that Laurent was relaxing enough to forget about his stalker, even though he was now pushing his remaining vegetables around in contemplation. “I’ll accept that answer. Three questions left…Ah! Who gave you your enormous appetite for books?”

There was a light deep in those dark blue eyes that Damen had never seen before. Count on books to bring a little spark to Laurent… “It was my mother actually. Before she…” Laurent caught himself and shook his head, “Auguste was a very lively child as you might recall, and so he was always my father’s favorite.”

He said such a cold opinion with such a matter-of-fact tone, as if it did not concern him. Damen was taken aback.

“As a result, I spent a lot of time with my mother and she enjoyed reading. As you enjoy cooking, I suppose.” He took a bite after. It was really amazing how he could take such a personal and make it sound so very…heartless.

“If it makes you feel any better, I much prefer you over Auguste.”

“Yes thank you, my spirits have raised.” Laurent replied, dripping with sarcasm. “I never understood why Auguste hated you so much but now…I’m beginning to see that the two of you are both stubborn as all hell.”

“Please don’t compare me to him.”

“I am so excited for tomorrow.”

Damen could not think of another question through the haze of his dread for tomorrow’s dinner. Laurent silently joined him on the couch after they had finished their own dinner. His book was, for once, not a textbook on law, psychology, or history, but the cookbook Damen had purchased and Damen watched occasionally as Laurent flipped through the pages of glossy photographs and detailed instructions. It appeared he enjoyed all types of books.

“Did you like today’s dinner?” Damen was sipping his final glass of wine and it gave him a warm, relaxed feeling. “If you like I can teach you for when…” He stopped midway, not wanting to say that he would be leaving in the future, “when I cannot make it for you.”

“No thank you,” Laurent scoffed, flipping a page with vehemence. “I have no patience for such detailed recipes. If you are incapacitated, I will simply order it from a restaurant. However…I was…pleased with the vegetables tonight.”

It was more than just the wine that made Damen feel warm.

“Ah…I…I see.” Damen was unable to come up with anything more eloquent at the moment. “If you like anything in the future, please make sure to tell me…ok?”

Laurent smiled and sighed in relief. “ _And_ there’s six,” he shut the cookbook with a satisfied snap. “Thank god that’s over with.” Damen cursed him inwardly as the cookbook was deposited on his lap and Laurent went to select another from his personal library. _Crafty bitch_ …

They did not speak much more for the rest of the evening, as Laurent’s focus was ironclad, but once the night had fallen sufficiently and Damen was beginning to feel a little languorous himself, did Laurent close his book. He rubbed his neck at the base and---while he was staring at the beautiful pale skin there---Damen longed to do it for him, as he was not applying enough pressure and the spot would surely be sore the next day. Damen’s hands, warm, large, and strong as they were, were perfect for such an endeavor. But their flimsy peace did not extend to such an intimate touch, so Damen did not extend the offer.

Laurent stretched out and rolled his shoulders as he stood and Damen also stood to wish him a good night.

“Good night Laurent. I will see you in the morning and…”

“Let me guess?”

Damen smiled. “Of course, I will not let anyone hurt you.”

Laurent rolled his eyes but Damen thought he caught sight of a small smile on Laurent’s lips. That cool shell was cracking…Damen could feel it…but he sat down as Laurent padded off to his bedroom and had to make do with rubbing his own shoulders instead.

He did not know when he nodded off…

One minute he was in a moment of quiet relaxation, watching the swimming yellow lights of the streetlamps and thinking of how dull they seemed in comparison to the silken golden prisms of Laurent’s hair, and the next he had fallen asleep sitting up. Good things never happened to him while he slept sitting up.

He was instantly plunged into a nightmare.

He was in a hallway…god, it looked so familiar but he could not put his finger on where he was exactly…something about it made him want to hold back but he could not help but walk forward. Something terrible was ahead of him but he had to go forward, something was pulling him towards the door in front of him. Where the fuck was he?

The handle he touched was cold, so very cold, and he pressed his shoulder hard into the door. It opened slowly; he had to put all of his strength into it, even though it appeared flimsy and thin. Cold sweat trickled down his neck as he heard something from within.

Was this Laurent’s place?

Damen willed himself to stop, but this was the logic of a dream and his legs plodded forward ever closer to whatever horror was hidden within…The bedroom? He knew it was a bedroom as he twisted the knob and the heat poured out from within.

The cold sweat mingled poorly with the heat from within and Damen was confronted with a sight no less horrible for how familiar it was.

Long, wavy hair was spilled over the pillows like a rain of golden coins and the sweaty, entangled limbs had a golden sheen from the warm lamplight. There was the sound of heavy breathing and a gasp of horror or pleasure…he could not seem to tell. And Damen stood there frozen in shock, unable to remember when it was, or where he was, or _who_ he was…

Then he caught sight of eyes, eyes the color of a tropical sea, and he knew…it was _her_.

The eyes closed, as if unwilling to see what was before her, and Damen looked up. He knew what was coming, but it didn’t stop the pain.

Kastor was slick and naked, his dark curls damp with sweat and eyes burning deep and dark. When he looked up and saw Damen, he did not even pretend to look embarrassed or shocked, but grinned wide in his certain ability to hurt his younger brother.

“Left him alone.”

Damen’s knees nearly gave out when he looked down and the blue eyes had opened. Only now they were deep and dark---more lake than sea---and the horrified screams began. Damen did not know if they came from his own mouth or the mouth of Laurent, pressed beneath Kastor, but it made the room spin.

Failed, failed, _failed_ …

Damen burst out of his nightmare with such force that he nearly leapt off of the couch, his phone crashing to floor. It would have taken him a moment or two to regain his wits, had a soft, terrified gasp not turned his attention to his right.

Laurent’s expression was hard to make out in the blue shadows of the deep night, but the way he was plastered against the wall could leave no doubt to the degree of his fear. Damen remembered the contents of his dream and he too was struck with fear; with ease he vaulted over the back of the couch and skidded to a halt in front of pale, frightened Laurent.

Heedless of his normal distance, Damen was overcome with emotion and cradled Laurent’s face in his hands. He was not screaming or naked, not being raped by Kastor…His heartbeat was painful he was so relieved.

“You’re ok…Laurent, you’re not hurt? Oh thank god, it was just a dream…”

And Damen, so caught up in his own relief, did the unthinkable and embraced Laurent, his hands cupping the back of Laurent’s head, fingers weaving through that golden hair he had always dreamed of. It was soft and silken and surprisingly warm, in direct contrast to the cool temperature of Laurent’s skin.

He did not realize it until a few moments later, after he had calmed down a great deal, but Laurent was actually holding him as well. Light fingertips barely patted the skin of his arms.

“Damianos…you’re dreaming…you’re _crushing_ me. I’m not…n-nobody hurt me.”

Damen pulled back with a watery laugh and could not resist stroking those fine cheeks with his rough thumbs. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, you’re right. I must still be half-asleep. Forgive me for…” He could not even finish his thought as he let Laurent go. There was an alarming feeling in the empty space between his arms and chest…the feeling of something missing…

“I’m glad it was a dream. I’ll go back to sleep now…Laurent.”

Laurent nodded and also turned to go back to his own room. Once again, it did not occur to Damen to ask why Laurent was also awake in the middle of the night.


	10. Day 9: The Dinner/Possible Murder Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damen's kink is catboys, Laurent's is big, sweaty muscle dudes; big surprise there haha!  
> Auguste is back and I was afraid he and Damen weren't big enough assholes to each other thus far, so I made this chapter. To be fair, Auguste is under a lot of pressure as well and now you will know why Laurent is afraid to rely on his brother and one of the reasons Damen is jealous of Auguste. God this story is a little sad, I'm sorry...  
> Also, French food is so much fun to research and write about; to any of my French readers, I envy your cuisine as it is SO expensive where I live.  
> I hope you guys like this chapter!

** Day 9: The Dinner/Possible Murder Party  **

Breakfast was a highly awkward affair the next morning as both of them recalled the spur-of-the-moment intimacy from the night before.

Laurent seemed as cool and unflappable as usual upon entering the kitchen, but the moment he caught sight of Damen, his cheeks flamed in a most attractive shade of pale pink and Damen imagined that---if he had a golden tail---it would have puffed up in fright. Damen, for his part, was a little embarrassed over his own moment of weakness and turned back to the breakfast that he was making. In the end, the two of them seemed to decide of their own volition to not even mention what had occurred during the night. There was no attempt at conversation until well into their meal preparation.

Damen felt the awkward air more intensely, as he felt that he had brought it about due to his own actions, and so it was he who broke the tension.

“Would you prefer strawberries or raspberries in this fruit salad?”

“ _Are you serious_?” Laurent asked, startling Damen as his slapped his book down on the kitchen table. “After what happened last night, you are going to open up a conversation with my preference of _berries_?”

Damen was shocked to silence for a moment. “Ah…strawberries it is then…”

Laurent snorted with a laugh before he could catch himself and clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent any further outbursts. When he reached for his book again, it was with narrowed eyes. Damen smiled a little as he chopped the strawberries. He did not expect Laurent to let the subject drop and braced himself a little as he dropped the pretty little salad in front of Laurent.

His ass had barely touched the seat of the chair when Laurent could no longer hold his curiosity inside.

“Are you in the habit of springing out of your sleep at the slightest noise? Because I can foresee a problem in this working relationship if leap off the couch every time I feel the need for a glass of water.”

“That’s your problem with our working relationship?” Damen asked in surprise.

Laurent skewered and bit through a strawberry with unnecessary force. “I cannot properly describe how much I dislike people leaping over my sofa and crushing me at three a.m.”

“It must have happened quite often for you to cultivate such a dislike of it.”

“Why did you think I was hurt?” Laurent asked, his voice softening considerably. Somewhere in the back of Damen’s mind he thought that Laurent might be trying to coerce Damen into explaining his dream, but Damen was too infatuated with the way the strawberries stained his lips to really care.

“It was just a dream.” Damen insisted.

Laurent seemed to accept the response, but Damen got the distinct feeling that the subject had simply been put on hold for the moment. Instead, Damen touched on a subject that was currently at the forefront of his mind.

“What time is dinner tonight?”

Laurent had something akin to an excited smile on his face as he speared a chunk of banana with his fork, “Auguste is all about planning and punctuality so I think we should leave early,” Damen didn’t know if such a thing was true, but the thought of staying with Auguste any longer than was absolutely necessary made him visibly cringe. “Dinner is at seven so…six thirty we should be there? We can take a taxi since his apartment is closer to the company building.”

“Are we expected to bring anything? Poisoned food? Poisoned wine?”

Laurent’s look alerted Damen that his question had been a stupid one. “One can only hope that you and my brother are also not alike in your schemes for destroying each other. And I will be bringing popcorn I can eat while I watch the chaos unfold.”

“Thank you for your support.” Damen sighed.

“I am deciding who is more beneficial to me alive.” Laurent said. Damen was aghast. “I’m joking.”

According to Laurent, Auguste’s cook was quite skillful and was planning a full spread in anticipation for Laurent; Damen actually felt a twinge of protective jealousy over the idea that someone else would be preparing food for Laurent. The chef would likely be more skilled than Damen, but…it would not have the same amount of emotion put into it. In any case, breakfast was very light and eaten quickly. Damen anticipated lunch would be a similar affair and his stomach was already feeling a little angry with him by mid-morning.

He _had_ to eat a little before lunch, as he took to exercising in Laurent’s living room. It had been a while since his last run or trip to the gym, so he stripped down to a black tank top and began doing push-ups on the wooden floors of Laurent’s living room while Laurent retired to his library. The pleasant warmth pulsed through his veins as he cycled through squats, sit-ups, planks, and another number of intense activities until he had developed a fine sheen of sweat on his back and forehead, which he wiped off with the bottom of his tank top.

He removed his shirt entirely and relished in the feeling of being bare-chested. In his own home, Damen could frequently be found wandering around in only boxer briefs or completely in the nude. However, in Laurent’s home, he didn’t feel comfortable doing such a thing and left it at the shirt.

It draped from around his neck as he set about preparing the ingredients for lunch and snacked on crackers and hummus---literally the only snack-like food that Laurent had in his kitchen. He had just begun to boil the carrots when he heard something drop to the floor.

He glanced behind him just to make sure…and it was Laurent.

Laurent looked both astonished and dismayed; apparently the sight of Damen’s bare back had scandalized him to the point of dropping his book and Damen snorted at the thought. Laurent was positively Victorian, in that Damen had barely even seen a flash of wrist in their days together.

“You dropped something.” Damen laughed, turning back to his carrots. He made sure to flex his dark shoulders so that Laurent could get a good view of the muscles within.

“And you _stink_.” Laurent retorted. “My god, you had better have washed your hands before you handled my food.” There was the impatient screech of a kitchen chair and Damen rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a barbarian.”

Laurent made a noise as though he did not believe Damen for one second.

However, when the carrot soup had been served and Damen made no motion to put on a clean shirt, Laurent had no more witty responses. He sipped his soup in silence, pointedly avoiding any sort of glance to Damen’s bare, muscular chest. Damen noted with wicked glee that the tops of Laurent’s cheeks were bright pink in color. His teasing only lasted the duration of lunch.

As soon as the dishes had been put away, Damen showered and put on a fresh set of clothes that he intended to wear to Auguste’s apartment that evening. He was duly aware that in his black, long-sleeved shirt and black pants, he was dressed exactly as Laurent usually was.

But of course, things could never go that easily with Laurent.

At about six p.m., the blond hellcat emerged from his own room and Damen was faced with a minor astonishment of his own. Laurent was wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt. Damen was unaware that Laurent owned clothes in a color other than black or dark blue. Laurent ignored his staring.

“Are you ready?”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

Damen had never seen Laurent smile so much in a single day, but it was only out of some cruel well that took pleasure in annoying Damen or Auguste or both. “Excellent, I’ll hail a cab.”

Auguste’s apartment was actually quite close to Torveld’s. In the penthouse of a luxury skyscraper, he had the entire enormous place to himself and Damen felt a little uncomfortable surrounded by so much obvious finery. Unlike Laurent’s sterile, unadorned home, Auguste’s was museum-like just for the wealth he had on display---from the fine art on the walls and state-of-the-art appliances to the modern kitchen and the unparalleled view of the cityscape. Even Auguste matched his surroundings, answering the door in clothes that looked as comfortable as they were expensive, a confident master in his own home.

He welcomed Laurent with a smile and a warm hug; for Damen all he could manage was a cold glare, which Damen heartily returned.

As the two brothers leaned close in familiar, hushed conversation, Damen got the distinct feeling that he would not be included in much talk around the table that evening. At least the smells coming from the kitchen were positively mouthwatering and Damen felt confident he wouldn’t be expected to clean the kitchen afterwards.

Within the first five minutes of being ignored, Damen took bitter notice of the fact that Auguste might be the only person in the whole city who could be so informal with Laurent. It was hard to compete with a beloved brother and Damen was jealous in more ways than one as he watched Auguste regard Laurent with love and affection, curling Laurent’s blond hair behind his ear and regularly kissing the top of his head.

True to Auguste’s apparent love of punctuality, dinner was served at exactly seven and Damen got to see the type of food these blond brothers were used to. It gave him some insight at least.

First, Laurent’s exclusive love of salads obviously did not extend to his entire family, as there were several meat-based dishes available. Second, he was duly aware that Auguste’s love of fine things did include what he put into his body. And Damen’s own father (and his entire family, for that matter) must have preferred simple, flavorful Mediterranean food as Damen had never seen such a lavish spread outside of a dinner party with potential investors.

At least six courses were available to be sampled and Damen almost felt as though Auguste had ordered it to pull even Laurent’s stomach and taste buds away from the careful, gentle habits Damen had been creating.

From what he could see at his place---furthest from Auguste---there were a variety of baked and sliced cheeses sweating fragrantly on a wooden cutting board, a thin, oniony soup in a tureen and a whole haunch of lamb that had been roasted over thin potato discs so that the potatoes absorbed the dripping fat from the meat. He could also vaguely see a plate of mussels in some kind of wine sauce that had been arranged so that their black shells looked like the petals of a flower, pieces of browned meat sliced thin as crackers and garnished with orange zest, and a salad of some sort, strategically placed at Laurent’s elbow. His jealousy over such skill was only dwarfed by his desire to taste it all.

He did so with reckless abandon, piling a little from each main dish so that they blended together in an indistinguishable amalgam of sweet and savory and winey flavors. Auguste looked at him with disgust.

“Laurent, try some of the baked Camembert, it’s to your liking I think. And you should eat some _gigot_ as well,” he motioned to the huge chunk of lamb, “it’s Rochert’s specialty.”

Laurent merely glanced up at his brother and went back to his vegetables.

Damen, however, took Auguste’s suggestions and helped himself to more cheese and lamb. Auguste glared at him.

“Is your name Laurent?”

“I’m sorry,” Damen replied lightly, picking up a slice of meat between his fingers and popping it in his mouth, “I was under the impression that this food was here to be eaten.”

“You’re so full of shit, I’m amazed you can fit any more food in your body.” Auguste sawed viciously into a piece of meat, red liquid pouring out of the cut. Laurent hid a delighted grin behind a sip of water. When Damen only responded by continuing to eat, Auguste turned back to Laurent. “Once you enter the workforce, you should really look into hiring a chef as well. It is a worthwhile investment for people as busy as we are.”

“You know I don’t like people in my house,” Laurent reminded. Damen was just more amazed that Auguste paid such an exorbitant amount for someone to cook food for him. But then again, it wouldn’t surprise him if Auguste lacked the love necessary to create delicious food.

At his brother’s tone, Auguste softened. “What have you been eating recently?”

Ah. Apparently he was aware of Laurent’s bird-like eating habits.

“Brother, if you don’t cease your worrying, your hair is going to start falling out.” Laurent replied with complete unconcern. “Besides, you should be paying Damen extra. He’s been cooking recently and sharing the food with me.”

Auguste looked at Damen after this admission and there was something very much like envy on his face before he controlled his expression. “I see…”

Damen smiled at him.

“How is school?”

Damen ignored the conversations following, in which his opinions and contributions would not be welcomed, and focused on his food and wine. He only looked up when Laurent gave an occasional laugh, just so he could see could see that rare smile. For Laurent’s sake it seemed he and Auguste had entered an unspoken agreement not to try and kill each other…yet.

Once he was pleasantly full, Damen began to listen to the conversation again and noticed that a particular tension had entered the mood.

“---said you were buying more groceries but you still look a little…thin.” Auguste was finishing a thought and it was clear that Laurent was not exactly fond of the topic of conversation.

“I _wonder_ what is the point of having my own personal maid if her main job seems to be reporting every aspect of my life to you.” Laurent replied, looking thoroughly annoyed. “You should not dwell so much on my eating habits, Auguste. You don’t have the time.”

“Don’t tell me my business.” Auguste fired back, and Damen felt he was a bit of hypocrite. “I have no issues making time for your sake. I worry about you Laurent.” He sounded so genuine, Damen actually felt for Auguste for a moment.

“You’re a broken record Auguste.” Laurent murmured.

“ _Damn it Laurent_.” Auguste was unwilling to let it go. “Let me fulfill my role as your older brother.”

Damen felt that twinge of jealousy, both in his overprotective nature and over the fact that…Kastor would never have shown such a vested interest in Damen’s life. He envied Laurent this time around. But it was clear to see why Laurent and Auguste met infrequently these days.

Laurent seemed to be closing in on himself and Auguste was looking as though he wanted to shake his brother by the shoulders. They both seemed to have forgotten that Damen was sitting with them.

When Laurent did not make a motion to continue the conversation, Auguste persisted. “Has he…have you received any more photographs? You need not hide this from me Laurent.”

“You hired Damen so you wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

“And yet I still worry!” Auguste slapped his hand on the table with such force that long golden strands slipped out of his ponytail. Damen felt as though he was intruding but there was no easy way of excusing himself. “Laurent… _please_ …don’t try to shut me out of this, I won’t allow it.” Laurent was stubbornly silent. “How do you think it makes me feel? Have you been eating properly? Have you been sleeping through the night? Have your studies suffered? God,” Auguste pinched the bridge of his nose in an expression of his mental pain, “do you know how much it eats at me…to think of you in pain?”

“Auguste, don’t.” This was a Laurent Damen had never heard before. He sounded defeated. “I don’t want this to happen again. Y-You’ll…ruin your life because of me.” Auguste inhaled so sharply that Damen felt a cold chill. The tension was breaking and not in a good way; once again, Laurent pushed people too far.

Damen’s entire body coiled in preparation for an emergency as Auguste’s chair screeched back and clattered to the floor. Maybe Laurent was right and he and Auguste were more alike than he thought. They were both fiery when they were upset.

“ _God damn it Laurent_!” Auguste’s handsome face was torn between anguish and anger. “Even after all this time…I still…blame myself! I didn’t see what you were trying to tell me until it was too late. I don’t know…what can I do to help you, understand that…I am your _brother_. You being hurt would ruin my life!”

Laurent did not stand or shout, but his grip on the chair was white-knuckled. “Auguste you c-can’t. Not again! The two of us…can’t both destroy our lives.”

Damen was struck with so many questions, particularly over what had happened ‘again’; Auguste looked as though someone had twisted a knife into his shoulder. “Laurent, I have graduated. My position in the company is secured! I am so goddamn _tired_ of having these arguments with you! Father might have blamed you but…but I _never_ did! I just want to make sure you’re not…hurting.” When Laurent bit his lip in obvious disbelief, something in Auguste seemed to snap. “Laurent! _Believe me_! I am going to finish this! I have already hired people to look into---.”

Laurent’s dark eyes became absolutely huge and he glanced over, seemingly remembering that Damen was present. “ _Auguste, DON’T!_ ”

The cry was so filled with emotion, so unlike Laurent and so much like the scream from his nightmare that Damen moved on autopilot. His own chair was upset in his haste to stand and, through his haze of fury, he heard the familiar ‘tick, tick, _tick_ ’ that always caused people to halt in their tracks.

When he came to his senses, everything was dead silent.

Laurent’s wide eyes were still huge and his mouth was half-open as he stared at Damen. Auguste’s face was almost comical for how furious he looked, but he had taken half a step back despite himself. Damen could hardly blame him; he was an intimidating man even without the crackling taser currently pointed at Auguste’s chest.

“Are you…are you threatening to _tase me_?” Auguste had never sounded so dangerous in his life and Damen had the distinct feeling that if he did not have the stun gun in his hand the two of them would have gotten in a fistfight.

“I have to admit, the very idea arouses me, but no. No, I’m not going to shoot this at you. I just wanted you to stop talking before you made your brother cry.” Auguste glanced at Laurent and relaxed his posture a little.

Nobody dared to move for another ten seconds until Damen took his finger off the trigger and sheathed the stun gun at his hip.

For a moment Damen thought Auguste still might try to fight him but Laurent called his brother off. “Auguste, I…I’m sorry. I don't mean to fight with you every time we meet just…please let it go.” Damen and Auguste were both astonished into submission just based on the fact that Laurent had _apologized_ ; if his smile was rare, an apology was almost mythical. “I think…I want to go home now.”

Auguste looked as though he wanted to veto this decision, but he finally decided to let it go. “Fine…fine. Go home and rest, Laurent.”

Laurent stood awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed, but Auguste was determined not to make another mistake. He embraced his brother roughly, kissing the top of his blond head. He whispered some other things into Laurent’s ear but Damen did not even try to listen in. He wanted to leave the apartment in one piece with his job still intact.

Auguste saw them both to the door, still keeping his arm around Laurent’s shoulders and resolutely ignoring Damen.

“I will visit you again soon.” He swore, trying to make amends for how poorly the dinner had gone. “Be safe and rest well, my beloved brother.” He was rewarded with a small smile from Laurent. “And, _you,_ ” his attention swiveled to Damen and all the warmth disappeared in an instant, “If you _ever_ threaten me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I look forward to you trying.” Damen smiled with false sweetness and the door was slammed in his face. He took a deep breath and turned to Laurent. “Well! That went well.”

At first he thought Laurent would stay in solemn silence, but then he heard the soft reply. “Shit. I forgot the popcorn…”

 

Damen was beginning to get used to silence that was constant in Laurent’s every day life. When he was with his friends from headquarters, the lot of them were so boisterous that there was rarely ever a moment of silence unless they were tired; for Laurent it was a way to relax and collect his thoughts, more of a peace than an awkward strain. Damen was getting used to it.

He knew Laurent was going to say something, it was just a trial in patience until Laurent was good and ready to speak.

That time didn’t come until well into Laurent’s designated reading time. Damen had not even checked his phone in anticipation and he heard Laurent’s book close after only a few moments of him opening it. He braced himself.

“Can’t concentrate?”

Laurent seemed surprised that Damen was so observant of his habits, but he must have been truly tired because he did not bite back. His golden ears would have been drooping. “I suppose not. My mind has been in a tangle since dinner…”

“And so you prefer to talk with me than read?” Damen must have sounded truly shocked by the very idea, because Laurent rushed to explain.

“N-No. I…Just something from this morning.” Ah. “What did you dream about last night?”

Laurent’s mind must have been such a mess over his argument with Auguste that he was desperate to have someone share in his mental anguish. Part of Damen did not want to reveal such a moment of weakness to Laurent---who knew what extra information he could glean even from a barebones story?---but he was also weak to that pretty face and he thought of a way to further his own interests as well.

“I’ll tell you but in return,” Laurent shifted; he did not relish the idea of reciprocity, “will you tell me a little about why…about why you supposedly almost ‘ruined’ your brother’s life?” Damen waited with a pounding heart, wondering if curiosity would eat away at this hellcat.

Laurent rustled uncomfortably, debating in his mind whether it was a worthwhile deal.

Then, lighter than a whisper came the reluctant. “Fine…but you first.”

Damen gave in. He supposed he would just have to trust that Laurent would keep his word. He leaned back against the couch to give himself some solid grip on reality and made a point not to make eye contact with Laurent.

“It’s not…I was in your apartment. Or it could have been my old apartment; it sort of blended together. But it was a familiar place and I saw…I saw you in bed…with my brother. I dreamt he was the stalker…I dreamt that I failed you and…that’s why I was so pleased to see you safe and unharmed. I thought I had let someone hurt you and I would have _never_ forgiven myself.” Damen only left out the bit how memory was mingling with a twisted fear in his mind…about _her_ and how similar she and Laurent were…about how hers had not been rape but a methodical ploy to break his heart.

“Your brother…” Laurent said slowly as if he was still digesting what Damen had said, “would do such a thing?” He sounded as though he did not believe an older brother capable of such a thing; he had been spoiled by the love and attentiveness of Auguste.

To be honest, Damen had no idea what Kastor was capable of. Thinking back…it was quite a bit of cruelty. The words came sharp and bitter on his tongue. “My brother…wants everything I love. If there is something I hold dear, he wants it as well or an exact copy of it. I would chalk it up to a brotherly rivalry but…some things he has done, some things he has taken are unforgivable, even by me.”

Laurent mulled over this new information, coming to his own conclusions and amassing more questions for the future. But he did not push the subject. “I see.”

“Your turn,” Damen prompted.

It was too dark in the room to see the color of Laurent’s eyes, but he saw them flash up at him briefly. Perhaps the shadows gave him a feeling of secrecy and comfort, like the darkness would veil his inner thoughts, make them into whispered nothingness…

The words pierced through the silence even as quiet as they were. “In Auguste’s final year of college,” (Damen did the quick math in his head and determined Laurent would have been around fourteen or fifteen at the time), “I…had a problem and…I asked for his help. When I told him what it was, he…he missed all of his midterms and almost… _failed_ that term of university. All because of my…selfishness.” Damen did not ask him to expound on what problem exactly caused Auguste to abandon his studies, but he assumed it was serious enough that Laurent would not wish to explain in detail. “My father was furious and now that I am older…I feel guilty that I couldn’t handle it myself but Auguste…doesn’t listen to my apologies.” Laurent tilted his head back and Damen saw a flash of blond. “He wants to keep me safe and this stalker…only makes things worse.”

“You are more like your brother than you give yourself credit for.” Damen murmured in response. “Both of you stubborn as all hell and like to argue.”

“I believe it was you who almost tased him,” Laurent pointed out. “Is that your gut reaction to every potential threat?”

“It’s the closest weapon to my hand.” Damen explained, patting his left hip where it rested in the holster. “And no, that is just the reaction I have when I am forced to spend any amount of time with your brother. You didn’t seem to be listening to him anyways.”

“Are you taking his side?” Laurent asked.

“As you have probably inferred, my brother has never properly fulfilled his duties as a loving older brother.” Damen admitted, and once again it felt kind of nice to say such a thing aloud. “And I think…even from my perspective as your bodyguard, good grades are a worthy sacrifice for…your safety.”

Laurent was quiet for a moment. “You aren’t going to ask me any more questions?”

“Not tonight.” Damen ignored the fact that Laurent had ignored his opinions on Auguste’s actions. “I think we’ve both said enough tonight.” His heart was pounding because he really, truly believed what Laurent had said about what had happened with Auguste. “Can…you concentrate now?”

“No…I don’t think so.” Laurent said. He stood fluidly and Damen’s breath caught in his throat; with the city lights as a backdrop, he could the delicate, slim outline of Laurent’s chest and waist through his white shirt. “I am going to bed.”

Damen forced himself to look away. “I…I see. Then I will see you in the morning.”

Laurent nodded. He stepped lightly across the wooden floors and paused at his door. “Although I empathize with your actions from last night, if you startle out of a dream and frighten me again, you’ll be sleeping out in the hallway.”

“I understand.” Damen nodded. “And Laurent? I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Laurent was very still but Damen caught the near-imperceptible nod that he gave right before disappearing into the recesses of his room. Damen couldn’t help but smile at the acknowledgement.

When he dreamt that night, it was of Laurent’s slender silhouette.


	11. Day 10: The Repercussions of Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaaa brace yourselves for this one.  
> Things have been pretty tame thus far but now I'm gonna kick this hornet's nest and watch the chaos unfold. There's some heavy stuff in this chapter so KEEP MY TAGS/TRIGGER WARNINGS in mind! Oh god, I can't wait to read these comments.  
> Also next update will come a little late. Since my birthday is on Friday I will be taking a small trip to Korea and I won't be able to write/update for 5-6 days rather than 4 days. But no more than that! I won't keep you guys waiting TOO long after this chapter ;)  
> Enjoy?

** Day 10: The Repercussions of Pride **

For breakfast the next day Damen roasted, pressed, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee---which, surprisingly, Laurent drank sparingly---prepared a heaping bowl of couscous with cinnamon, apricots, and dried currants, and sliced thin, hard wedges of _paximadia_ to eat alongside the couscous. The smell was so diverse, what with the bitter, earthiness of the coffee, the cloying sweetness of the cinnamon, and the homey odor of warm bread that it did not take long for Laurent to emerge and inspect what was being made in his kitchen.

Damen felt eyes on his back and grinned as he finished piling the _paximadia_ onto a plate. “Good morning.”

“You didn’t scare me.” Laurent said almost like he was attempting to make a joke.

“I didn’t dream.” Damen replied, placing the bread in front of Laurent. “I also cannot make French food…yet.”

Laurent shrugged in nonchalance and his black shirt slipped low on his shoulder. “Your meals are lighter than the ones Auguste’s chef makes.” His ears might have been deceiving him, but it _almost_ sounded like a compliment.

Damen poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced out the large picture windows. “What are our plans for today?” Although he would not bet on it, he certainly hoped they would do something out of doors.

Laurent also followed Damen’s gaze between a bite of _paximadia_. Hopefully he couldn’t help but notice how the sky was perfectly blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds and looking as perfect as anyone could ever hope. “Did you cut the flour for this bread with powdered concrete? Why is it so hard? I think…I’d like to go out today and get some sun.”

“ _Can_ you get sun?” Damen took this opportunity to cheerfully regard what little of Laurent’s lily-pale skin was on display. He had no idea how that lovely skin would react under direct sunlight. He himself bronzed deep after fifteen minutes of outdoor activities.

Laurent blushed pink at the insinuation. “I meant I wish to enjoy the weather, not attempt to tan myself. And to answer your question…no, as you can probably imagine I burn quite easily. If you are concerned, we can stay inside as usual.” Damen ached to be outside on this beautiful day.

“Do I seem concerned?” He made a conscious effort to sound apathetic. “It’s entirely up to you.”

Laurent sampled the couscous. “I see. I want to go out then.”

Damen had to refrain from bouncing up and down with excitement. Unlike most days when he Laurent would take a cab, Laurent decided he wanted to take the metro instead, and the two of them took the green line five stops to the local botanical garden. Laurent read while standing on the train and more than once Damen steadied him when the car screeched to a halt and he used his massive bulk to shield Laurent from any incoming crowds. Never had anyone been so well protected on the metro before.

Laurent’s step was light and quick on the white tiled floor and Damen could not help but stretch with glee as they emerged into the warmth and the light. Maybe it was because his job up until recently did not allow him to be out in the day, but he looked forward to being out in the sun.

The botanical garden was a beautiful old building, half intricately carved marble and the other half the blinding glass of a greenhouse, but Laurent only seemed to show interest in the sweeping grounds: the hedge mazes and expansive rose gardens, the Japanese garden and the hanging gardens of flowers and plants dripping over trellises. As much beauty as was around him, Damen could not help but notice that the exotic plants and flowers only served to enhance Laurent’s beauty as he walked ahead of Damen under the dappled sunlight.

The two of them wandered in silence for a good thirty minutes until they came to a lovely park with benches and a dirt path surrounding a lotus pond. Laurent sat on one of the benches that was mostly shaded by a flowering plum tree and removed his book from his bag.

“You can run you know.” Laurent remarked before Damen could make a move to sit.

“Excuse me?”

Clever dark blue eyes flicked up to Damen’s face. “You have so much energy you have barely been able to stand still. You can see me from where I sit around the entire circumference of this pond so by all means take a jog while I read.” He looked back down at his book. “I look forward to reading uninterrupted by your questions.”

Laurent must have been watching Damen’s habits more than he let on, because Damen felt absolutely wonderful with a bit of exercise, his legs filling with that familiar liquid warmth.

He had always been athletic, with few sports above his skill, but more than basketball and swimming, boxing and rock climbing, he did enjoy running. Sparrows scattered in the approach of his swift gait and he used the glimpse of Laurent as his reward for completing another lap.

While he ran, he felt at leisure to think without fear of _someone_ attempting to read the thoughts from his face.

He thought of Auguste and the argument from the previous day, he thought of Aleron and how shitty the people surrounding Laurent were. Of Kastor and his own father, his friends and how to contact Nicaise, Damen even used his amateur sleuthing skills to try and think of who the stalker might be. But he was woefully unfamiliar with Laurent’s inner circle…if such a thing even existed. It could have been any person in passing at the dinner party the previous week. It was enough to make Damen’s head hurt with the possibilities, but at least he could rest confident in the fact that even if he could not figure out who was behind it, they would not get Laurent while he was around.

By the time he had finished fifteen laps around the pond, he felt pleasantly warm and not at all fatigued. He strolled back to Laurent and purposefully moved so that he was blocking the sun, casting a long shadow across Laurent’s open book. Laurent looked up with one eyebrow raised in surprise.

“My god, I thought I had read through until evening.”

“Truly that would be astonishing,” Damen responded, sitting heavily right next to Laurent on the bench. It was so small that Laurent was forced to move up against the wrought-iron armrest to avoid touching Damen.

“What is truly astonishing is how you manage to keep that pace for so long and not even break a sweat.” Laurent responded.

“You watched my pace?” Damen asked, a bit of pride swelling in his chest.

Of course Laurent had to shoot it down. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, “but I could not help but notice the strong breeze. It must have taken you all of ten minutes to complete.”

“If you’d like, I can show off my true skill and carry you while I do it again.”

It was a joke as Damen imagined stinging scratches on his arms and face, but Laurent fixed him with his signature cold glare. “If you tried it, you’d regret it.” Damen nodded with a laugh; just as he expected.

Laurent only read a little while longer and then proclaimed himself hungry for a late lunch. Fortunately, there was a small café inside the main building of the botanical gardens that specialized in teas but also served small, Laurent-sized meals. Damen had to order three entrees just to sate himself and the two of them split a pot of golden lotus tea.

Though he was not exactly a huge fan of tea, Damen did appreciate the delicate flowers that seemed to bloom magically under the heat of the water and how much holding the delicate teacup suited Laurent. He would have to ask the maid to purchase some Greek Shepherd’s tea on her next shopping trip.

The setting, the food, the ambiance, the company…on any other occasions Damen would have felt that this was an afternoon date…

Of course on their return journey Laurent dropped in the bookstore to look around, his fingers dancing along spines, his nose quivering to breathe in that new book smell. After an hour and a half of deliberation, he chose a few new volumes to add to his expansive collection.

By the time the two of them were walking home from the metro station the sun was already hanging low in the sky and the sky was streaked with long lashes of reddish pink, golden orange, and lavender. Damen thought to himself that if he could hold Laurent’s hand at this moment, it would be one of the most beautiful afternoons in living memory for him. The cherry on top of their relaxed afternoon was that there was nothing inside or outside of Laurent’s mailbox, the stalker apparently giving them a moment’s peace on Sunday afternoons.

As they waited in the elevator, Damen felt bold enough to express his pleasure over their activities that day. “Laurent, I…I enjoyed our time together today.”

“Oh,” was the only reply. Damen would take it.

Damen was plotting out what to serve for dinner while Laurent turned his key in the latch, when some sort of feeling came over him.

It started in the small of his back and shot up his spine so the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Like a dog snarling, hackles raised at something unseen or the buzzing feeling as if he was about to be hit by lightning, Damen felt _wrong_. His experience and instincts could not count for nothing and he pushed past Laurent into the apartment, ignoring the yelp of dismay from Laurent.

It was empty.

The apartment was warm from the midday sun and was bathed in a pleasant orange light from the sunset. Not a single thing was out of place but Damen could not shake the feeling. He was highly on edge as Laurent sauntered in behind him, a little pissed that he had been pushed out of the way.

“Congratulations, you’re inside first. I’m going to go put these in my room and we can discuss dinner.”

Damen waited, wondering if his senses were just not what they had been, when he heard a loud ‘thunk’ from Laurent’s room. The running from today had warmed him up and he sprinted to Laurent’s bedroom, taser in hand.

Luckily Laurent was alone, but not even the warmth of the sunset could hide that his pale face was devoid of color. His face was expressionless but he didn’t seem to realize that his entire body was shaking like a leaf as he surveyed what was in front of him. Hell, even Damen was horrified by what he saw.

Illuminated by the long red-orange chunks of late sunlight, Laurent’s bed had been methodically covered in those familiar square photographs. Apparently the stalker was _not_ giving them a day off, had tired of them ignoring the mailbox, and---the most unnerving---had been able to get into Laurent’s apartment while they were out. Damen felt that on-edge feeling mixed with nausea as he realized these three things, but both were soon encompassed by a consuming fury as he really got a good look at the pictures.

He cursed himself; he should have forced Laurent to let him sweep the master bathroom.

Every single photo featured Laurent naked and exposed in his own personal bathroom. From him undressing completely to him submerged in a deep claw-foot bathtub, drying himself off, even photos of him scrubbing his skin with his fingernails, as if he was trying to peel his skin off. Every single photo featured Laurent’s slim white form in possibly its’ most vulnerable state.

Damen would love to see Laurent naked, but not like this. It was such a flagrant disregard for privacy and so horrible to showcase on the place where Laurent slept and felt some semblance of safety that Damen looked away in regret and disgust. Never had he wanted to kill someone so badly.

“Laurent,” Damen choked, trying to get Laurent’s attention away from the mess on his bed.

It worked, but not in the way he had hoped. Laurent looked over at him and, for a split second, he was wide-eyed and terrified as a child. His arms crossed protectively over his stomach and he seemed to curl in on himself, as if in pain. “Oh god… _oh god_!” He whispered through gritted teeth and it was almost a cry. “Oh god…he saw me naked! _He saw me naked!_ ” If Damen did not know Laurent as he did, he would have guessed that Laurent was crying, but no. He was just in incredible pain.

It was gasoline onto a fire.

Damen nearly tore the bathroom door off its’ hinges in his haste. He had no time to appreciate the flawlessly clean bathroom with its’ black tiled floors and enormous antique bathtub; his mind was too full of crimson fury.

In less than a minute he had found the offending stamp-sized cameras, one placed strategically in the ventilation duct and the other in a hollowed out tile above the tub itself. Their placement he could infer from the angles of the photos and it sickened him to think that the delivery of these photos was not the first time the stalker had been able to enter Laurent’s apartment. He would have had to enter before to scout out the bathroom and place his cameras, and possibly a second time to allow remote access to said cameras. And this had all be done for torture; the stalker did not keep these pictures for his own personal use but flaunted them to Laurent just how easy it would be to get inside and have Laurent at his mercy. If not for Auguste’s intervention then Laurent would already be…

Remembering his nightmare, the photos, Laurent’s pained expression, and how he had failed in this simplest of tasks, Damen felt bile, bitter and hot, rising in his throat.

Taking both cameras in his palms, Damen crushed them easily with a quick squeeze of his hands, feeling a return of his senses along with the stinging pain as the plastic, glass, and metal cut into his flesh. As he opened his hands to see the damage done, blood trickled off of his hand onto the black floors. They were remote access cameras, as he had suspected on his first glance, which meant that the images would be sent directly to a computer. It was useless to try and track the IP address though, as any user with an iota of sense would use a good VPN to prevent anyone from tracing the location back from the cameras. Even if he had brought them back to his informers at headquarters, they would have shrugged their shoulders; it would be easier to find a single ant in a field of clover.

Damen solely took the blame.

If he had been any good he would have been more insistent about checking this bathroom and Laurent’s bedroom. He had been so focused on trying to get Laurent to like him, that he had disregarded the most important thing: Laurent’s safety. Kastor’s words rang in his ears and pricked painfully in his heart. Maybe he _had_ gone soft. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this kind of work.

He had to shake those depressing thoughts from his mind as he pocketed the chunks of destroyed camera. Right now Laurent needed him. He could not neglect that.

Laurent had not moved since Damen had left him, but now both palms were flat against his face in an unwillingness to see the horror before him. Damen moved very carefully, trying to hide his bloody hands.

“Laurent.”

“ _He saw me naked_.” The horrified mantra cut Damen to the quick. “He _saw_ me…scrubbing.” Damen thought of the previous time when Laurent had been delivered photos.

“I know. I know.” Was all he could choke out. “I…I destroyed the cameras.”

At the mention of cameras Laurent made a noise that Damen had only ever heard from wounded animals. He ached to embrace Laurent or get down onto his knees and apologize, but instead he focused on gathering up the photos without looking at them and how he would go about disposing of them.

Damen used the bookstore bag Laurent had dropped to the floor to contain the photos and then he gently took Laurent by the shoulders and guided him to sit on the bed. Alarmingly the fire had gone out of Laurent and he just seemed listless. Damen would have almost preferred tears.

“Should I…call Auguste?” Damen asked, kneeling down so that he was at eye level with Laurent.

The pain and fear rippled across Laurent’s face before he could catch himself and he shook his head a bit more violently than he normally would. “ _No_. Don’t tell Auguste.” And then softly, almost begging. “ _Please_.”

Damen was going to argue that Auguste would not find it a chore to help his brother, would not be angry or ashamed with Laurent (though Damen expected the full force of Auguste’s wrath would be directed at him). However, he could hardly argue in face of such a heartfelt plea. Against his better opinion, Damen decided to honor Laurent’s wishes.

Instead, he stepped outside to call Nikandros.

Nikandros answered after the first ring and seemed alarmed by the absolute fury in Damen’s voice. “Nikandros. I need you to come to this apartment with a half liter of gasoline and a book of matches.”

“Damen, I’ll do a lot of things for you but I might have to draw the line with burning a body.” He sounded genuinely concerned so Damen knew he was not making light of the situation.

“I’m not asking you to burn a body Nikandros. What I want you to do is take a bag of photographs---don’t look at them, whatever you do---and I want you to take them somewhere and burn them until nothing but ash is left. Got it? I don’t even want a single corner to survive.”

Nikandros must have heard the edge of desperation in his voice, because he made no further remarks and simply responded with a curt, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Damen left the bag on the counter and returned to Laurent’s room, shutting the door behind him. As much as he loved and trusted Nikandros, it didn’t seem right to let him see Laurent like this, cracked open and vulnerable.

Damen had no plan of action to diffuse the situation, but he was good at thinking on his feet.

Alarmingly, Laurent was not sitting on his bed, where Damen had left him.

There was only a split second of panic before Damen realized that the bathroom door had been closed. Normally he would not be so bold, but this was no normal occasion; he knocked on the bathroom door, residual blood trickling down his wrists.

“Laurent…I-I’m coming in.” He was desperately afraid Laurent might be hurting himself. “I’ll close my eyes.”

The door had been left unlocked and when he entered, heat and steam hit him like a punch in the face. Perhaps he had just been too overcome with feelings, but the sound of pouring water filled his senses. His heart clenched a little as he thought of Laurent boiling himself yet again. But he refused to open his eyes.

“Laurent---”

“You can open your eyes.” It might have been a whisper to begin with, but the acoustics of the bathroom amplified the noise so that it was easily heard, even over the sound of the water. Just to be safe, Damen only opened one eye, and he did so very slowly. His delay turned out to be for naught.

It was just as he had feared.

Laurent was sitting in the tub clutching his knees with the curtains drawn back and the shower running, and he was doing so while completely clothed. His blond hair was slick against his head and his wet clothes plastered against rapidly reddening skin. He shook though it was most assuredly not with a chill; Damen could feel the heat of the water from where he stood and his protective nature kicked in over the sight of Laurent burning.

He knelt by the bathtub, errant drops of water stinging his bare skin like nettles, and gritted his teeth as he gripped one of the burning hot knobs to turn down the temperature. How Laurent could stand it, he did not know.

“Don’t,” Laurent whispered, reaching for the handles as the temperature went down to a more humane level. Damen gently gripped his shaking fingers before they could change anything. “Damianos, please.”

For some reason, Damen didn’t mind when Laurent called him by his full name.

“It’s _burning_ you, Laurent.” He replied, pushing the sleeve of Laurent’s shirt up, revealing alarmingly red skin. “I’m sorry…I cannot stand by and watch. Not this time…I’m going to have to insist.” They left unspoken the fact that Laurent had refused to let Damen sweep the bathroom and that Damen had not insisted on that matter. It was hard to place blame.

“It’s dirty.” It could have been a trick of sound, a misheard whisper over the sound of water, but Damen could not let it lie. He doubted Laurent wouldn’t believe if he assured otherwise.

Instead Damen simply picked up the thick bar of soap and rolled up his sleeves.

He wet his hands and began to rub the soap between his palms, ignoring the stinging from his recent wounds. The light, sugary smell of almond blossom pervaded the warm room as Damen took Laurent’s right hand. Laurent made no motion to stop him, his dark eyes flat and unseeing.

Gently and in silence, Damen worked the suds onto Laurent’s hands and wrists and bare feet.

He felt more like his grandmother than ever before as he softly rolled up Laurent’s sleeves and clicked his tongue at the bright red skin he found there. It looked like a horrible sunburn but at least Damen had gotten there before he had attempted to scratch himself all to hell. He found himself mumbling unintelligible nothings in Greek as he cleaned Laurent’s arms to his shoulders and his legs up to his knees. It was the first time he had been permitted to touch Laurent so freely, as he had dreamed of, but he took no sexual pleasure in it.

He simply wanted Laurent to feel clean and safe in his own goddamn home. He wanted to fight down his guilt over his failure. He wanted that spark of wickedness back in Laurent’s blue eyes. So he washed Laurent as far as propriety would allow.

When he rinsed off the soap, Damen instinctively reached for the shampoo as well.

“Turn around, Laurent.” He ordered with his softest voice. “I’ll wash your hair as well.” Laurent glanced up but it seemed as though the fight had gone out of him. He spun around in the bathtub without a single complaint.

Damen would deal with that issue later.

For now, he squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand and, with shaking fingers, began working it into Laurent’s hair. He had often imagined how Laurent’s hair would feel between his fingers, how soft it would be, but now he only focused on how gently he could massage the shampoo in. Laurent’s eyes closed at the feeling and Damen was taken aback by how Laurent’s hair ran through his hands like a river of gold.

It was very hard thing, to let go.

When Damen pulled his hands away and switched the faucet so that the water ceased to pour from the shower nozzle, Laurent turned to face him.

“If…if you still feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave now so that you can finish cleaning yourself. I swear,” he assured with a smile that he knew probably did not convey much happiness, “nothing is left in this bathroom that can film or photograph you in any way. You can rest easy. I will be just outside calling your landlord. I’ll have him change the locks.”

Laurent just stared and Damen began to take his leave. As he reached the door, he thought he heard something. Once again it could have just been the running water or the sound of Laurent standing up, but he thought he heard a whispered, “Thank you,” before he exited the room.

Damen had all intents to call the landlord and request an immediate change of locks.

But when he exited the bathroom and saw that the sun had set, and everything was dark, and Laurent’s bed was bare of photos, the entire events of the day crushed down on him so heavily that he sank to the floor. The day had started so wonderful, with such promise, but now…he could only feel pain when he thought back.

It was a good long while---long after the sun had set and the room was a study in violets and blues and blacks---before Damen found the strength to get to his feet and leave the bedroom. It took longer for Laurent to emerge from the bathroom.

At least Nikandros had come at some point, as the bag of photos had disappeared.

All that was left was silence and several lines crossed.

 

The two of them did not end up eating dinner that night, but instead Damen ordered sorbet delivered to the door. There was a small store near his apartment that sold homemade sorbet, gelato, frozen custard, and ice cream and Damen was in the habit of ordering a carton or two when he had had a particularly rough day. Laurent, who had not said a word since leaving the bathroom, had jolted a bit when the doorbell rang, his unread book slipping to the floor. Despite his normal dislike of overtly sweet things Laurent accepted one of the small bags without question or complaint.

The TV had been turned on, a rarity in Laurent’s home, but neither one of them were keen on watching. It could have been the evening news or a hot, wet pornography for all they knew, but their focus was on the sorbet.

Soft and smooth, silk in ice form, it gave in easily to sharp spoons and melted in their mouths in syrupy pools of strawberry lemonade, papaya and lime, mango and blackberry mint. Damen wondered in between bites if the carefully cultivated relationship he had built with Laurent would be able to recover from the events of the evening.

The answer, unsurprisingly, was not at the bottom of an empty carton of sorbet.

It was not long after they finished eating ‘dinner’ that Laurent stood in preparation to go to his room. His book he pressed like shield against his chest and Damen saw the hesitancy in his form as he looked down the dark hallway to his bedroom. Surely Laurent knew there was nothing hiding in those shadows, but the memory from earlier was enough to give him pause.

Self-consciously he shot a glare at Damen, and Damen was a little pleased to see there was a flicker of his normal combative personality.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you Laurent.” Damen whispered. As discouraged as he felt, he still really, truly believed it.

Laurent paused, fixing Damen with a cold expression. His words were just as cold. “You’re a bit too late for that I would think. It’s funny…for a moment there I almost believed you.” Damen winced at the barb and tried not to show Laurent how much the comment hurt him. They had both been hurt too much these days.

“Good night Laurent.”

Damen stretched out on the couch, his only comfort for the day being that he could have a good night’s rest and wake up refreshed the next day.


	12. Day 11: The Things That Go Bump in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ready for a bit more PAIN???? At least I will finally answer one major question this chapter and it will help Damen and Laurent get closer, I promise ;)  
> I cannot imagine experiencing what Laurent is right now, as when I was researching it sounded goddamn terrifying. If any of you guys also experience this...you are stronger than I am haha!   
> Also, I hope it's not readily apparent that I know NOTHING about video editing, so if my explanation is 100% wrong, please just suspend some disbelief haha!
> 
> Finally, side note, thank you for all your well-wishes from last week! Korea was awesome and I fully intend to put a Korean BBQ scene in this story at some point. Poor Laurent...All that meat...

** Day 11: The Things That Go Bump in the Night **

Of course, things could not progress that smoothly.

There was no dream or nightmare that night but Damen still woke up. He jolted from a dead, dreamless sleep at about 2 AM and was greeted with a soft little scream and the clatter of something metallic hitting the floor.

Damen whipped around and found Laurent plastered against the wall, clutching the part of his shirt that was over his heart, looking as though he was trying to drag his frightened soul back into his body. When he finally composed himself, his look of shock was replaced with trademark anger.

“ _Christ alive!_ ” Laurent hissed, his knees giving out a little as he slid down the wall a little. “ _What the FUCK is your problem?!_ ”

“Why are you whispering in your own house?”

“ _Why_ are you awake?”

“Why are _you_ awake?” Damen shot back, scratching his wild hair in an attempt to wake himself up. Somewhere in his mind he was duly aware of the fact that this was the kind of banter he was used to with Laurent. A few hours ago he would not have thought such a thing would be possible again for a long time. “Is everything ok?”

“Aside from my heart giving out?” Laurent said accusingly. “I would say everything is decidedly _not_ ok, considering the events of this evening. Or are you still half asleep?” Damen tried to force himself to focus more despite the haze of being just woken. One thing he did notice was the source of the metallic sound that he heard when he first bolted from his sleep.

One of Laurent’s stainless steel knives from the butcher block in the kitchen was lying at his bare white feet.

Damen sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Do you fetch that every time you wake up in the middle of the night?” _The hellcat had claws_.

Laurent did not deign to respond but picked up the knife in a flash of sharp silver.

As Damen woke up further his mind cleared and he remembered that this was at least the third time he had woken up in the middle of the night to find Laurent wandering around. Apparently, this was a common occurrence. “Laurent…have you not been sleeping?”

“I assume you will not be dropping the subject.” Laurent replied.

Without continuing his thought, he turned, knife still in hand, and began to walk toward his library. Strangely, Damen felt the urge to follow and he jumped up, padding behind Laurent without asking any more questions. Laurent flicked on the light and Damen shut the door behind him.

Though Damen was not fond of staying indoors while reading, he could appreciate Laurent’s library, and he had done a clean sweep of the entire apartment so he knew that the library had not been re-bugged.

Laurent reclined easily on the sofa in the center of the room.

“I suppose…you’ll be wanting your six questions then?”

Damen sat on the floor to give Laurent some space, because pain and exhaustion seemed to be rolling off Laurent in waves. He was used to minimal sleep, so he didn’t mind giving up a comfortable seat so that Laurent would be more at ease to speak.

“You’re not going to read?” It seemed odd that they were sitting in a library and Laurent had not selected a book to read. It was almost like Laurent was missing a limb without a book on his lap.

Laurent leaned one elbow up on the armrest and his eyes closed. He looked asleep, save for that furrow between his eyebrows and the fact that he answered Damen’s questions in a clipped tone.

“First question.” He replied. “And no. I have not enough energy to read _and_ talk to you.”

“Why have you been waking up in the middle of the night?” Damen asked softly. “Is it to fetch that knife? I just woke up because I sleep lightly. I must have heard you make some noise…I can’t blame it on a nightmare today.”

For a moment Damen wondered if Laurent closed his eyes so that it would be easier for him to speak his mind, if he didn’t have to see that he was trusting someone.

“I can’t…sleep well. Not for the past few weeks…I…I…”

‘ _You can say it_ ,’ Damen willed in the recesses of his mind. ‘ _You can just tell me you’re scared. I wouldn’t blame you. No one could blame you…how could they?_ ’ But he didn’t for one moment think that Laurent would tell him that. It was still too personal. Even though Damen had seen him just a few hours before in a very vulnerable state, Laurent’s guard was back up.

“Have you told Auguste?” _Third question_.

“Oh my god.” Laurent groaned. “Why are always concerned about whether or not Auguste knows the intimate details of my every day life? You bring him up so often…if I didn’t know the two of you better, I would assume you were in _love_ with him.” Laurent chuckled softly as Damen sputtered with indignation over the very thought.

“H-How on _earth_?! How could _anyone_ fall in love with that stubborn, arrogant, boorish---?”

Damen’s furious tirade was interrupted by Laurent actually shaking with silent laughter, his eyes still closed. Damen’s anger waned at the sight. “Dear god, the two of you are exactly alike. Both stubborn and noisy. I’m sure he can tell that I’m tired…probably why I fight so much with him these days. And as for your fourth question…Auguste seems to have no problem getting women to fall in with him. He is, after all, wealthy, handsome, and intelligent.”

“I don’t care,” Damen said a bit sourly now that he had wasted his fourth question in a fit of anger.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked,” Laurent responded, one blue eye peeking open.

“A slip of the tongue,” Damen assured, his annoyance fading. At least he knew now that Laurent trusted him to some extent. He told Damen something that Auguste had only been able to guess at. “Do you even know how to use that knife?” It certainly was not a knife meant for a novice fighter, much less a knife to be used in a serious fight.

Laurent made a noise of annoyance. “I have no doubt that you could easily disarm me. But I thought…it would be better than nothing for my defense. At least it makes me feel a little bolder.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” Damen said, looking at the polished blade of the knife.

“Are you ever _not_?”

Damen ignored him. “If you were to attack someone with this it…honestly might get you killed. If they can disarm you, it will only give your attacker a weapon.”

“Thank you, I feel so much better now,” Laurent replied sarcastically, stretching out his legs so that he was lying down on the sofa, “Are you suggesting that I forgo a weapon and just allow myself to be…assaulted?”

“You don’t need a weapon.” Damen’s voice was soft. “You have me. I will protect you.” A noncommittal grunt was the reply. Damen thought carefully about his only remaining question. There was one that he wanted to ask, but he knew Laurent would not answer, if he even knew the answer to begin with.

In the police case file, none of the other victims had any mention of receiving photos of themselves undressing or in the nude. And Laurent had gotten two sets within the eleven or so days Damen had been with him. He wondered if there was a reason why…

But it was entirely too personal. Damen just stayed quiet.

Without Damen asking him questions, Laurent had nothing to keep him awake and seemed to give in to his exhaustion. His head drooped from where it rested on his hand and Damen felt a rush of fondness. It was a rare thing when a feral cat trusted someone enough to sleep within an arms length.

Also feeling the mental exhaustion of the day, Damen felt at leisure to rest himself. He was one of those unique people who could fall asleep immediately, in any position, so he also began to doze, his back pressed up against the couch.

Good things never happened to him while he slept sitting up.

About an hour into his impromptu nap, Damen was roused by a small sound. It was enough to make his eyelashes flutter as he thought about whether or not it was worth opening his eyes. He heard the sound again and could not place it; it sounded like a chirp, like from a small animal…or was it a hum? He felt his brows furrow as his brain attempted to think through its’ sleepy haze.

Was it Laurent?

That thought alone was enough to pull him out of his sleep and he opened his eyes.

Laurent had readjusted himself in his sleep so that now he was sleeping on his back on the sofa. Nothing at all looked amiss…until he saw that Laurent’s eyes were actually open. A jolt of fear; it looked as though he were dead. Damen nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to scramble to the couch.

“Laurent? _Laurent_!”

Laurent’s eyes were open, but they were flickering back and forth in desperation and his body was rigid. The sound was like a whine, slipping from between gritted teeth as Damen hovered over him, unsure of what to do. Damen was so concerned, he ignored every personal boundary he had ever set for himself and picked up Laurent’s torso. It was limp.

Continuing to say his name and trying not to panic, Damen shook Laurent gently, and then patted one of his cheeks. He stared at Damen in wide-eyed terror.

Desperate, Damen had an idea.

“I’m sorry Laurent.” And then he slapped Laurent. It was not hard, probably just enough to sting, but the effect was almost instantaneous.

Laurent screamed loudly in fear and anger---the sound bursting out of him as if it had been welling up for a long time---and Damen was so shocked by the outburst he simply let Laurent go. This was mistake. With surprising speed, Laurent’s slim arm reeled back and hit Damen squarely on the cheek with such force that it knocked him backwards off the couch and onto the floor.

The force was so surprising for someone so slender, that Damen actually saw starbursts twinkling around Laurent.

Laurent himself looked no better. After slapping Damen, he crumpled backwards, gasping as if he had just run a marathon. If he was of a weaker personality, he might have cried.

When Damen’s cheek began to feel numb from the pain, he felt safe beginning a conversation he felt was owed to him. “Ok,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even, “I’m not angry, but…what in the actual _hell_ was that all about?”

Laurent began to laugh, though Damen could tell it was not due to mockery, but relief as shaky as it was. “Oh god…I thought…it was… _Oh god_ …” When he finally managed to compose himself it was with a grim sort of resignation that he was going to have to be honest this time around. “You asked me earlier…why I’ve been awake so often. And since, I know you won’t believe something so simple as a nightmare, I’ll just tell you. I have sleep paralysis.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Damen said while stretching his jaw. “Why does it warrant a slap?”

Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your stupidity deserves a slap. I can’t…explain it. My brain is awake and my eyes are open but I cannot move my body. It’s like…” he leaned his head back on the couch cushions and his voice became very soft, “it’s like being dead…” He continued, trancelike. “And then… sometimes you can’t breathe, like something is…sitting on your chest and my---something _hovers_ over you, looking down and…” his entire pale body shuddered, “you don’t know what but…something bad is going to happen…”

Damen was awash with sympathy. “So when I picked you up?” He felt a sinking feeling that his appearance had constituted the mysterious ‘something’ from Laurent’s waking nightmare.

Laurent shuddered again in spite of himself. “I thought…no.” He shook his head, seemingly unwilling to finish his thought. “I’ve been researching it, before you ask how we can possibly manage to fix this. It happens from lack of sleep and anxiety. So I find myself caught in a hellish loop. I get paralysis due to anxiety, which as a result affects my sleep and therefore makes the paralysis worse. So…recently I have been spending the nights reading here and catching small moments of sleep. So…in your infinite wisdom, does that warrant a slap?”

“I’m sorry.” Damen replied, “If I scared you…I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a trick of the mind,” Laurent said dismissively. Perhaps he had woken up now, and gotten over his fear, because now he was making light of the situation. Maybe he hoped Damen would drop the subject. “There’s no protecting me from this, Damianos.”

That fucking hurt.

Damen looked over Laurent carefully and decided not to pry any further. Really it would only make Laurent more uncomfortable. Instead, he focused on something else.

“I regret I cannot protect you in your dreams, but if there’s any way I can help you sleep, please let me know.” Damen tried to sound soothing but Laurent scoffed and closed his eyes. “I think we should…skip class tomorrow.”

At first he thought Laurent would argue against it, as he did love studying.

But…in the end, he gave a small curt nod and an exhausted. “Ok.”

Damen was surprised, but Laurent must have really been tired enough to agree with his statement. And besides, that would give Damen time to look into something he was curious about. “Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?”

Laurent had curled up into a tiny ball on his side, his blonde hair covering his face like a sheet.

“Just hum or something. But don’t touch me.” Laurent replied, curling up tighter.

Until he himself fell asleep, Damen sang softly under her breath; lullabies his mother and grandmother had sung to him, little songs he knew from his childhood, and ones he made up off the top of his head.

 

The two of them slept until well past noon, but that could have also been helped by the drizzly weather outside.

When Laurent emerged after brushing his teeth, he found Damen sitting on the couch with Laurent’s slim laptop on his massive legs. Damen was scanning the screen carefully and only acknowledged Laurent’s approach with a quick nod of the head. Laurent sat beside him, smelling faintly of mint.

“I see you have commandeered my computer without permission.”

“Laurent, may I borrow your computer?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you looking at anyways?” Laurent asked, finally taking note of the screen.

Damen let him get a good look as it was pretty evident what was on the screen. Then once he was sure Laurent knew what he was studying, Damen let him know what he was doing. “I requested the lobby security tapes from your landlord last night and he emailed them to me. I know it was a long shot, but I’m trying to see if your stalker made a mistake…any mistake.”

“I…I see.” Laurent replied, now clearly on edge. “You know Auguste has already had tapes checked in the past.”

“I am not Auguste.” Damen hissed in annoyance. “ _I_ am a professional.”

They both watched the footage for a while, but things that were not books could only hold Laurent’s concentration so long. He stood up after about a half an hour to go make himself some chamomile tea. He was kind enough not to prepare a cup for Damen. _Bitch_. At least he did not see the need for conversation and let Damen focus in quiet, but that could have just been his nerves.

Laurent would never lose control so much to spill tea on himself, but he did twitch slightly as Damen slapped the space bar with unusual intensity. Damen’s breath caught in his throat.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes, the way you managed to find the space bar was amazing.” Laurent said with dry unconcern. Damen glared at him and Laurent hid a wicked smile behind a sip of tea.

“ _Aside_ from that.” Damen rewound the tape a little. Apart from Auguste, his temperament was not made for being annoyed. “Here.” He pointed at the screen and tapped the space bar again so that the tape began to play again. “Do you see where the video rips…here?” There was a near imperceptible glitch in the video, almost as if the video shifted down a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. “See?”

Laurent set down his cup of tea, brows furrowing slightly. “Play it again.” Damen obliged and Laurent nodded when he saw it. “So there’s something wrong with the camera, what of it?”

“No,” Damen said shaking his head. “If it was an issue with the camera, the image itself would be affected, not the placement. This is a rip in the video and it means someone has tampered with the footage. In all honesty, someone probably spliced a video of your empty lobby in where your stalker entered the building.” Laurent’s expression didn’t change but his eyes widened as he met Damen’s gaze. “It’s easy enough to do if you know how to edit videos. Just find another day with the lobby being empty for a set amount of time and replace the parts you don’t want with it. The only issue is the time and date down here at the bottom. Changing that might have caused the rip.”

“How do you know about this?” Laurent asked carefully. He was not used being poorly versed in a topic of conversation and Damen had a feeling that the next day he would study until he was at expert level.

“A lot of high-end bodyguards know how to do this.” Damen replied. “A lot of times it’s so that no one can use video cameras to track our clients’ habits. But…I’m sure anyone can do it well given the correct software and a lot of practice.”

“That would explain,” Laurent whispered, “why nothing showed up on camera for Aimeric…I think…they just assumed the cameras were broken that day.”

Imagining the possibilities, thinking of how many possible times his stalker could have visited, invisible thanks to his apparent skill with computers. He looked a little distraught, so Damen ruffled his blond hair without even thinking. They both stiffened at the unfamiliar contact and Damen dropped his hand quickly back to the keyboard.

“You don’t have to worry.” He said with utter conviction, “I won’t let him touch you.”

Laurent ignored his assurances. “And I assume since we were skillful enough to find this,” (it really was amazing, Damen thought, how Laurent could attribute a victory or accomplishment to himself), “that the original footage is gone?”

“Sadly, yes.” Damen admitted. “If I’d been able to get a hold of it sooner then maybe… _maybe_ we could have caught something. But I imagine he is doing it remotely and now the file itself is corrupted. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Well,” Laurent said bitterly over a sip of tea, “I’m glad we wasted our time on this pursuit.”

Damen shot him a glare. “At least we know now how he’s managed to avoid detection for so long. And we can alert your landlord that he needs to replace his computer as soon as possible. He won’t be able to get in here unnoticed again.” Even Damen could see the way Laurent eased visibly at this announcement.

Without asking permission, Damen sent the landlord a brief email about the entire issue and Laurent’s insistence on his purchase of a new computer as the current one had been compromised.

When he closed the laptop, he noticed that Laurent was deep in thought over what remained of his tea.

“Something you want to ask?” He inquired lightly.

Predictably, Laurent’s eyes narrowed. He still did not like Damen to read his emotions, but he answered after a long pause. “Damianos…have you ever…killed someone?”

That question gave him pause.

To be honest, he didn’t like to answer. It was not something he considered worth of praise; just another aspect of his business, a necessary possibility for the kind of protection he offered people. But Damen knew he was incredibly transparent and maybe Laurent would trust him more if he was honest.

“I have.” He admitted. “I did in defense of myself and my client. And I would do it again.” He kept eye contact with Laurent, thinking things unsaid. ‘ _I will do it again for you_ ’.

Laurent broke the eye contact with a nod of understanding, going back to his tea.

 

If Damen had been worried yesterday evening that he and Laurent’s relationship might never recover from his failure, then he was surprised to find that the opposite was true. Laurent was not only tolerating him, but actually seemed to be orbiting him; far enough of a distance to maintain his normal standoffish personality, but usually within arms’ reach. Maybe he was still scared to be alone or maybe he was just finally getting used to Damen’s presence, but Damen didn’t complain.

He liked this feeling of domesticity. He _missed_ it really…

Things really came to a head during dinner preparation. Laurent had alerted the maid that he and Damen were perfectly at liberty that day to do their own shopping since he was skipping class. So Damen had showed Laurent to the Mediterranean grocery that was close to campus and they had chosen the freshest ingredients together.

The greengrocer and Damen had been remarkably impressed over how Laurent could wheedle the price down and make it seem like it was in the best interest of the seller. The old greengrocer was so smitten by Laurent’s appearance and amused by the whole interaction that he gave Laurent a small bunch of red grapes as a gift. Damen made a mental note to take him to the next farmer’s market just for the chance to watch him haggle.

Although Laurent had been characteristically vague about what he was in the mood for---giving the soft and predictable reply of ‘vegetables’---Damen decided to create a salad with feta and grapes to accompany the main dish.

Laurent watched him occasionally over his book while Damen assembled the rest of the ingredients.

“What are you making now?”

“ _Kolokythokeftedes_.”

“ _Gesundheit_.” Laurent responded, insinuating the name of the meal sounded like a sneeze. “Perhaps you could translate for those of us who are not intimately familiar with the finer details of Greek cuisine?”

“Come here then.” Damen offered. “I’ll show you. They’re just zucchini fritters.” He assured when Laurent looked at him warily.

Two curious flicks of an imaginary golden tail and Laurent conceded to shut his book and come over to investigate. Damen shifted to give him room, but even so his shoulders were so broad that Laurent almost brushed against them as he took his place at the counter. “I am not a chef by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Because you see it as the means to an end. It should be _fun_.” Laurent gave him a look that indicated he was very close to slapping Damen with a wooden spoon.

But he withheld and instead watched as Damen began to grate zucchini into the cloth covering the mixing bowl. His blue eyes became huge for a fraction of a second as Damen flexed his biceps and squeezed the full towel, releasing a steady stream of green liquid into the bowl. This would make the fritters crunchy, although Damen had to be careful; his first attempt at making them years before he had used too much strength and actually crushed the zucchini into a paste.

Though he did not deign to help with the zucchini, Laurent did help Damen chop more greens: fragrant spring onions and mint, dill and leafy basil.

When Damen measured out the flour, he was overcome with a feeling of playful whimsy that took grasp in his fingers. Before he could stop himself, he flicked a pinch of flour in Laurent’s direction and it hit directly on Laurent’s exposed left ear.

Laurent was caught completely caught off-guard and gave such a genuine gasp of shock and disbelief that Damen could not keep a straight face.

“I-I’m sorry,” He said avoiding Laurent’s narrowed gaze, looking completely guilty due to his shaking shoulders. “My…hand slipped.”

“ _Slipped_.” Laurent repeated, his voice velvet and dangerous.

Damen nodded, not trusting himself to look at Laurent without laughing. He fully expected retaliation as he stirred the rest of the ingredients into the mixing bowl. He did not expect the fistful of flour directly to his face as he turned to reach for the olive oil. Laurent looked positively angelic as Damen brushed the white powder from his face.

But Laurent did not make a move to sit back down as Damen threw the concoction in small scoops onto the skillet.

They sizzled delightfully in the hot oil, a myriad of smells wafting into the air, as Damen mixed the sauce for dipping. He did it all so deftly that Laurent nearly got underfoot from watching. He actually got involved again---flipping the fritters over---while Damen chopped coriander. They looked gorgeous: crispy and golden brown.

Damen shook flour out of his curly hair as he spooned the finished fritters onto a paper towel to soak off the extra oil. Laurent removed the salad and pitcher of lemon water from the fridge and placed them on the table. For the first time…Damen felt like he was really sharing the space with Laurent. It felt nice.

Damen let Laurent have the first bite, feeling pleased as he heard the telltale crunch of a perfectly crispy fritter.

He grinned over his own. “Tastes better when you help to cook it, right?”

Laurent responded with a bite of salad. “The grapes are better.”

Still, despite the stress of the previous evening and night, the two of them managed to finish off the salad and all six fritters as well as keeping up a conversation that did not include the stalker or photographs of any kind.

This avoidance of the horrors of the previous day continued into their normal reading and relaxing time in the late evening.

Damen was feeling confident even as Laurent finished his nightly reading and was standing up in preparation to go to his room. “Laurent.” Laurent turned and his expression was actually relaxed. “I won’t let anyone touch you. And…please wake me if you cannot sleep. I will stay with you.”

Laurent looked him up and down. “There’s still flour in your hair.”


	13. Day 12: The Remedy for Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha the last two chapters were some rough seas, yeah? Now...I'll let you guys decide how you feel about this one. Laurent's got his claws out to say the least ;)  
> Also, in other news, I have started writing my Captive Prince Big Bang story and I can't wait to share it with you all in the future! I'm already up to two chapters on it but I will not neglect this fic of course! More good stuff is gonna come really soon!  
> For all my readers who suffer from sleep paralysis, I hope you have good dreams now and forever amen (also I read sleeping on your side helps)! Enjoy!

** Day 12: The Remedy for Insomnia **

While Damen was sitting in Laurent’s class, he realized in the worst way that he had forgotten to switch his phone to silent mode. One minute he was quietly zoning out as the professor chatted at length about the finer details of a certain law and the next minute his chair was screeching across the linoleum floor and all eyes were on him as his phone began to ring in the deadly silent classroom. Something sounding very much like a snort came from Laurent’s vicinity as Damen fumbled his phone, but when he looked up Laurent was studiously writing something in his notebook.

With an apology to the irate professor, Damen excused himself to the hallway to yell at whoever was calling him.

His anger waned immediately when it was Pallas’ gentle voice on the other end of the line. It was hard to be angry with so sweet a person.

“Hello Pallas, I hope you’ll be pleased to note you’ve just embarrassed me in front of an entire classroom of college students.” Damen sighed.

“I’m so sorry.” Pallas replied sounding truly contrite. “I was just calling to see if you’ll be free tomorrow night. We all want to go to dinner and possibly get drinks after work. We miss having you around and we’re all curious how that job of yours is going. You can bring your client with you, just don’t leave him alone with Nikandros. He seems to have minor shellshock after whatever your client did to him…”

“Yes…he does have that effect on people.” Damen replied. “I will ask him but…don’t expect us to show. He’s… _picky_.”

“Understandable.” Pallas said in his most understanding tone. “Clients come first.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I can.” Damen sighed thinking of what Laurent would have to say about this set up. “Tell the guys I say hello. I miss you all…even if I don’t miss guarding nightclubs.”

“Good luck Damen.”

“Thank you Pallas.”

Damen hung up the phone and took a moment to collect his thoughts. He did miss the consistent presence of friends and he wanted to go eat with them but…it struck him that he had never met a single one of Laurent’s friends. In fact he was not entirely sure that Laurent even _had_ friends. He wondered what a dinner would be like together with them all.

When he had recovered from his embarrassment and felt comfortable enough to reenter the classroom, he had decided on the easiest way to ask Laurent that maximized his chances on getting a vote of approval. He estimated his chance of victory at around two percent.

It was nigh impossible for a man of his size to go about any task sneakily during daylight hours and the professor gave him a very obvious glare as he attempted to make it back to his seat next to Laurent; Laurent, for his part, looked like he was taking delicious pleasure in Damen’s discomfort.

Damen felt his face flushing as he settled back into his chair.

“What was that all about?” Laurent asked in a normal tone, such that he could be heard _while_ the professor was trying to restart his lecture. It was truly astonishing how little Laurent seemed to care as most of the room glanced at him.

“ _Shh_ ,” Damen hissed, hoping to bring the conversation back down to an acceptable whisper, “It was one of my coworkers from headquarters.”

“And what did he want?” Laurent asked with perfect unconcern, at the same volume.

“Can we discuss this later?”

Laurent shrugged but Damen swore he saw the makings of smile playing at the corner of Laurent’s lips. Damen almost kicked his leg from under the desk but he wasn’t sure if Laurent was playing with him or not. He sat in silence instead.

Laurent was a mystery.

He rather thought that their relationship would have soured in the recent days after he had crossed so many boundaries the past Sunday evening: seeing Laurent in his most weakened state. But he almost liked this new side of Laurent; still secretive but more wicked, he was less aloof and playing these kind of tricks with extended, playful claws. Perhaps the stress had knocked a screw loose in that brilliant mind. Damen could not understand it one bit, but---aside from the collateral damage of his current discomfort---he would enjoy this mood for as long as Laurent kept it.

After class was over, Laurent made sure to take his time packing up so that the other students had time to file out and leave them in relative privacy.

“Laurent, would you…erm, be interested in going out to eat tomorrow…with my friends from work? They just called to invite the both of us.”

Laurent’s expression was unreadable as he mulled it over. “…Just dinner?”

“If I know my friends, drinks will follow not long after.” Damen admitted. “They won’t have me drink since I’m protecting you and if you dislike drinking,” he remembered several instances of Laurent pushing around a near-full glass of wine, “I won’t let them bully you into drinking.”

“I doubt any friend of yours could bully me into anything.” Laurent responded with casual venom.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, even though you are so small…” Damen said, trying not to smile himself as Laurent zipped up his bag with unnecessary venom, “but it is entirely up you whether or not we go.” He tried his best to appear disinterested in case Laurent was in the mood to toy with his emotions by dangling the possibility in front him, never giving a solid answer.

Laurent was silent in contemplation for a long moment before shrugging. “Why not?”

Damen felt his heart flutter a bit. His excitement was almost overwhelming; when he first met Laurent, the young man had barely eaten at all and now he had agreed to go to dinner with his friends with headquarters? It was nothing short of miraculous. No doubt Damen’s friends would tease him mercilessly about his lovely client, but he hardly cared at the moment.

“Thank you…” he murmured, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

The fact that Laurent’s landlord responded to their email in the affirmative and assured the two of them that the computer and hard drive and locks on Laurent’s door would be replaced by Thursday evening was enough to complete Damen’s happiness for the day. Even someone as skilled at hiding his emotions as Laurent could not help but let relief wash over his features. On Friday at least, no one could come into Laurent’s apartment without being seen.

To celebrate, Damen defrosted a lamb shoulder he had kept stashed away in Laurent’s freezer and baked the meat alongside vegetables, orzo, cinnamon, and cheese. While it baked he also prepared a watermelon salad so that Laurent would not consider the entire meal a waste.

As he tried both of his latest concoctions, Damen had to admit that his skill in cooking was improving. There was a heady flavor to the meat, a sweetness to the salad that he had not detected before. From Laurent’s expression at the first bite, it was clear he noticed the difference as well.

“Why don’t you want to work for your father’s company?” Damen asked his first question a few minutes into their conversation.

Laurent’s expression soured for a moment and Damen wondered if he would get an answer to this question. But he spoke reluctantly after a long moment. “My…father and I do not exactly see eye-to-eye…He had plans for Auguste and I and, while Auguste seemed to enjoy following that path, I…I rejected it at every turn.”

“That seems so unlike you,” Damen remarked sarcastically and Laurent smiled over his salad.

“Right? But…though Auguste has a hand for business, I _abhor_ it. The greed, the ass-kissing, the lies…the whole pantomime is unbearable.”

“You’re going to be a _lawyer_.” Damen replied.

“ _I_ am going to use it to protect people who cannot protect themselves,” Laurent argued back and Damen recalled that he said he had wanted to be a lawyer for children, “none so different from you. I just crack a few less skulls.” Damen snorted at that. “And you? You’ve accepted your lot in life without question?”

“ _Look_ at me.” Damen insisted, gesturing to his broad frame and Laurent humored him with a glance. “I don’t think I’d be so well cut out for any other type of work. My brother and I are both built for it, even though I’m bigger. And besides I like protecting people. It’s satisfying work to feel like I’ve helped someone.”

“My father does not see that.” Laurent murmured. “And there…there are other things that I cannot forgive him for…”

Damen left it at that, as Laurent seemed loath to reveal any more information.

A second question revealed that Laurent did indeed read novels on occasion, though he did not reveal which particular novels he enjoyed and the third Laurent described at length his love for Auguste, a subject Damen could have done well without knowing. He felt a rush a vicious jealousy for that arrogant golden bastard, that someone so distasteful could have Laurent’s good opinion.

“And _your_ brother?” Laurent asked. “When you were younger, was he kinder then?”

“You seem to have an opinion of him already.” Damen replied, “Have you met Kastor?” There was a feeling like a cold stone in his stomach when he thought of Kastor seeing Laurent with him.

“No, not that I can remember. But Auguste has cultivated a vocal dislike for the man. Even more so that he hates you, I should think.” Kastor must have done something truly despicable then, Damen thought to himself.

“Kastor is six years older than me.” At thirty-one, sometimes Damen felt Kastor acted less than half his age, “and it wasn’t really until I grew bigger than him that he started with this ridiculous rivalry. He was a bodyguard too, at one point, but now he has disregarded that in favor of dealing with the business aspect of the company.” Thinking back now, Damen could not remember many good times to be had with Kastor…

Perhaps because Damen did not press Laurent for details during the first question, Laurent returned the favor and did not inquire further, though he did study Damen’s expression with his clever eyes.

“Do you have many friends at school?” Damen asked after a moment of silence, thinking back to their day at university.

Laurent snorted over a bite of watermelon salad. “I would have thought that answer to be remarkably evident. The answer is no. I find it quite difficult actually to make friends with people who do not share my level of intelligence or drive.” Damen secretly thought that most normal humans would collapse from exhaustion after a week at Laurent’s pace. Small wonder then…

“Not even as a child?”

For a moment something very dark passed through Laurent’s eyes, but---just like most other aspects of Laurent’s personality he wished to keep hidden---it disappeared before Damen could recognize what it was.

“Ahhh…no. Not even then.”

It was then it struck Damen that, aside from Auguste, Laurent must have been---and could still be---a very lonely person. He wondered…

“I see…May I ask why?”

Laurent smiled and it was like shattered glass, sharp but somehow still fragile. “You said the other day…that your brother wants to possess everything you love. I suppose…I had a similar situation up until very recently. But it was not about possession. They just wanted…to destroy what I loved. I suppose…that’s why I didn’t find it… _prudent_ to make friends.”

Damen’s breath had caught in his throat and he found it difficult to swallow his most recent bite of lamb and orzo.

The answer to this question was more personal than he would have ever thought imaginable coming from Laurent. He was filled with deep-set fury that Laurent would have another despicable person in his life and that he spoke of it in such a matter-of-fact tone, as if it could not be helped. In a way…in this way at least, the two of them were the same.

“Well,” Damen said with a kind of finality, “I feel honored then, to be your first friend.” Laurent’s head snapped up and, if he had had less control over his expression, his mouth might have dropped open. “I assure you, I am almost impossible to destroy.”

“That sounds remarkably like a challenge.”

‘ _It’s a promise,_ ’ Damen thought to himself.

 

They had gone through the rest of the night with their regular song and dance: cleaning the dishes side by side and then sitting on the couch together in respectable silence. Of course when Laurent stood for bed, Damen assured him that no one would make it inside his apartment to touch him. Laurent still refused to acknowledge this pronouncement but at least he responded with a curt, “Good night.”

Not long after Laurent had disappeared into his bedroom, Damen began to message his friends to alert them of his and Laurent’s intent to join them for dinner the next evening.

‘ _Looks like we’ll be seeing you assholes tomorrow evening_.’ Damen typed into the group chat. ‘ _Brace yourselves_ ’. He could practically feel Nikandros’ chagrin through the screen.

‘ _Perfect,_ ’ Nikandros responded first, ‘ _I’m sure that tow-headed terror will be joining you?’_

‘ _Of course,_ ’ Damen responded with illicit glee. ‘ _It would be poor business practices to leave a client undefended, no?_ ’ Nikandros did not respond to Damen’s provocation but Pallas continued the conversation.

‘ _Excellent,_ ’ he replied in obvious excitement, ‘ _I’ll make the reservations tomorrow morning and send you the address._ ’

‘ _Please be on your best behavior_ ,’ Damen begged, knowing intimately the personalities of his friends.

‘ _Of course_ ,’ Aktis responded and Damen did not believe him for a moment. ‘ _Nikandros failed to provide an unbiased depiction of his appearance? Is he easy on the eyes?_ ’

‘ _No comment_ ,’ Damen replied, which he knew was an answer in and of itself, ‘ _but you had better watch out. If he can terrorize Nikandros, you know he’s not the type you want to mess with._ ’

‘ _Please stop talking about me like I’m not here,_ ’ Nikandros reentered the conversation in defense of himself.

‘ _See you tomorrow then,_ ’ was Lydos’ only contribution.

‘ _Good night,_ ’

Damen locked his phone, plunging the room into darkness and he looked forward to a restful night’s sleep. He missed sleeping in a bed and the couch was not the perfect firmness for his back, but it beat sleeping on the floor of the library. He lapsed into a pleasant dream that involved someone very familiar stroking his shoulders and hair and murmuring his name in a loving voice:

“Damianos…Damianos… _Damianos!_ ”

A hard push was enough to yank him out of his dream and Laurent took a half step back as Damen shot straight up. Apparently the pleasant voice was actually Laurent trying to wake him and the stroking was Laurent shaking his shoulder.

Exhaustion filled his body after this realization and Damen tried not to let it show. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. “Laurent…are you ok?”

“You told me to wake you if I could not sleep. Here I am.”

His tone was saucy in an attempt to seem uncaring, but his expression was unguarded in the shadows. His lovely white jaw was clenched and his already wide eyes were positively enormous, which gave him an innocent, honest look that his face normally lacked. Damen ached to curl an errant lock of hair behind Laurent’s ear and then take that tiny white form in his arms.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he began to stand, scratching at his unruly black curls. “I see, I see. To the library we go then?”

Laurent padded behind him and even looked a little guilty as Damen yawned widely.

“So then…” Damen’s entire body protested as he took up his place on the floor, “can I ask you what happened? Was it the paralysis from before?” Laurent gave nothing away, but Damen had the feeling that his guess was spot on. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I do not.” Laurent replied irritably, massaging his temples. “I…don’t want to think about anything right now, _especially_ not answers to your seemingly endless well of personal questions.” Damen sighed, trying not to feel annoyed over the fact that such a prickly bastard had interrupted his rest.

“Ok…then what do you want from me?”

Laurent mulled it over for a moment and Damen sincerely hoped he was not meant to sit on the floor like a guard dog for the rest of the night. A flesh-and-blood attacker he could fend off, but against an imaginary dream demon he could only do so much.

“Come up here.” Laurent said after a long pause and motioned to the two empty cushions next to him. Damen’s abject shock must have shown on his face, for Laurent flushed pink. “ _What_?”

“You’re…going to fall asleep up there.” Damen had to struggle to decide whether to phrase it as a question or a statement.

“God willing.”

“I…don’t think…” Damen desperately took into accounts the length and width of the couch in front of him. “It’s a bit… _small_ for the both of us, don’t you think?” If Damen were to stretch out to his full length on this sofa, his feet would dangle off the ends. He could not imagine how he and Laurent would both fit if they fell asleep and…he _prayed_ Laurent wasn’t cruel enough to make him curl up on a single cushion.

Laurent waved his hand dismissively. “We can deal with that later.”

“No,” Damen replied.

Laurent’s eyes flashed. “ _Oh_?”

“I cannot protect you if I am up all night while you sleep. What exactly do you have in mind?” Damen protested. Even though he was bigger and stronger, it was a little nerve-wracking to directly question an order of Laurent’s. Just a cold look could flay the skin from his bones. “If you swear I can rest, I will come sit next to you.”

They glared in tandem, Damen an immovable stone and Laurent looking as though he would dig his claws into Damen’s eyes. But finally, pale shoulders slumped and Laurent decided his own rest would be worth losing this one particular argument.

“When I fall asleep, go do whatever you want.”

“Understood,” Damen replied, and hoisted himself up on the couch as Laurent curled up to make room. “Now…how can I be of service?”

Laurent seemed unwilling to make a direct request but instead just hugged his knees to his chest in a moment of contemplation. Damen let him be.

“I…I think I could rest if I read but…”

“Do you have audiobooks?” Damen asked and Laurent looked at him in disbelief. Of course, he was such a snob and was so fond of having books in his hands, it was foolish of Damen to think Laurent would stoop to listening to his books. “No? Ah…I see…”

Laurent was staunchly going to avoid stating what he wanted, his lips pressed firm and contrary in a rosy line. So Damen would be forced to guess then.

“You…want me to read to you?”

“You’re offering?” Laurent shot back, perhaps refusing to admit what he actually wanted. “Then by all means…” Damen sighed at his inability to understand what exactly was going through that brilliant mind.

Rather than argue or question, he simply stood up to select a volume, as it seemed Laurent had no preference.

At once, through his exhaustion, he was overwhelmed with just how extensive Laurent’s collection was. He had old classics and the newest best sellers, textbooks and art books and autobiographies and cheap pulpy novels people could buy for a dime in a second-hand bookstore. Damen swore if he looked hard enough he might even find a computer manual tucked in amongst the diverse tomes. He looked at each one with tired interest, wondering at times what Laurent thought about a particularly boring title or one that seemed scandalous for someone so uptight.

Finally he was able to select a book that looked interesting enough to be easily read, but placid enough to inspire sleep to any tired listener.

“Is this good enough for you?” He asked with no real intention of switching his choice. Laurent shrugged without even really looking at it.

So the two of them sat in the faint warm light and Damen read softly to his audience of one.

He only half-focused on the words and made several mistakes---Laurent seemed too tired to really notice---as he was watching Laurent fall asleep. The moment he began to read, Laurent closed his eyes but he was by no means at ease; his entire body was pulled tight as the stings on a piano and there was a deep furrow in between his eyebrows. Then as Damen read longer, it was almost like magic.

Laurent uncoiled bit by bit: first the tense muscles in his arms and the clench of his jaw, followed by a relaxed curve of his hips and torso, and finally his expression went sweet and slack and his head lolled charmingly on his neck. Just by the sound of Damen’s voice, reading aloud, Laurent had managed to fall back asleep.

Damen read a few more lines, increasingly softer each time, until he felt he could close the book and rest himself.

He only took a few moments to regard his sleeping companion, as he did not make a habit of watching people in their sleep.

However, there was something very tender about someone so feral in the throes of sleep. Laurent, in his sleep, curled up into a very tiny ball with his knees tucked against his chest and his arms cradling his head. His hair spilled over his face in a river of white-gold and---lacking his normal ice-cold demeanor---he looked very small and fragile.

With all the stealth he could muster in his enormous body, Damen pushed himself off the couch without waking Laurent and went over to turn off the light. He had planned to turn off the light and exit in favor of the larger couch in the living room, but of course, his plans could not go so smoothly.

He flipped the switch and twisted the handle of the door only to hear a hitching gasp. He paused immediately.

“A-Auguste?” Came the quiet, almost terrified question.

“No,” Damen shut the door in response, “it’s me, it’s Damianos.” He could not leave under the current situation. “I was just…turning off the light. You’re safe Laurent. Go back to sleep.” It could have been a trick of his own ears, but Damen thought he heard a relieved sigh as he walked back toward the couch. It looked like he would be cramped in the library then…

It was uncomfortable, to sleep curled up as Laurent did, but Damen managed on his leftover two-thirds of the sofa. His exhaustion was stronger than the unusual position he found himself in and he was falling asleep within two minutes of lying prone.

When he next woke, it wasn’t until the first tinges of dawn.

Hazy from sleep he glanced around to see everything a sort of dull purple-gray from the sun, close to rising. At some point during the night, he had stretched out to his full, impressive length and his feet were indeed hanging off the opposite armrest.

Laurent was also lying lengthwise now, not exactly touching Damen, but parallel to him. His white-pink feet were directly in front of Damen’s mouth and strands of his hair were draped across Damen’s dark legs. It almost didn’t seem real, that Laurent could trust him so.

Damen shrugged and closed his eyes to fall back asleep. There were worse things to wake up to…


	14. Day 13: The Dinner/Possible Murder Party Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! So I hope you guys can tell when I wrote this chapter ;) I read it again tonight to check for mistakes and now I'll be dreaming about barbecue for the rest of the night, especially that steamed egg...  
> So, we all know Laurent has some past issues but I'm really laying on hard now that Damen might have some as well. I think a few of you might start to realize what I'm laying out and I've added some more questions that will be answered later. More good news is that we'll be seeing more of Nicaise in the very near future!   
> In fact we'll be seeing a lot of minor characters within the next 5 or so chapters which are ramping up in the intensity!   
> Thank you all for all your lovely comments and support, I hope you enjoy ;)

** Day 13: The Dinner/Possible Murder Party Part 2 **

Damen had woken up first and skillfully extricated himself from the library without waking Laurent. And if Laurent recalled their abnormal sleeping arrangement, he made no mention of it over breakfast. At least he looked well rested, if a little irritable at the prospect of having to visit Paschal.

Damen sincerely hoped he would not take his frustration out at dinner.

Once again, Laurent was nearly silent and refused to read on their ride over to the office and normally this would alarm Damen, but he was getting to know Laurent better and realized that when he was stressed, he just wanted to be silent and alone and not even reading could improve his mood.

Damen himself felt incredibly relaxed when he reentered Paschal’s office.

Today the office was playing the sound of running water over the tiny Bluetooth speakers mounted to the wall and Damen contented himself with one of the books from the bookshelf closest to him. Laurent, he noticed, was making a very concerted effort to look relaxed and he decided to try something.

He began to read softly, almost like a swift murmur under his breath, and began to glance at Laurent as he did so.

Though it might have been imperceptible to anyone else who was unfamiliar with Laurent’s body language, Damen noticed. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed in what Damen hoped was a small bit of relaxation. They maintained this position until Paschal emerged from his office a few minutes later.

Then Laurent moved to his feet and the faint stiffness had returned to his elegant limbs as he coiled tight again. Paschal must have noticed the disappointed look on Damen’s face as he closed the book because his smile was soft and wry as he greeted the two of them.

“Laurent, you are looking very well today.” He remarked in his soothing professional voice.

“And you are not wearing your glasses.” Laurent pointed out in a politeness that belied his annoyance. Indeed, Paschal’s glasses were tucked into the front pocket of his shirt and he laughed softly as he put them on. At least he could appreciate Laurent’s scathing sense of humor.

He slid on the glasses and smiled wider when he caught sight of Damen. “Ah yes. And Damen as well. It’s good to see you again. I’m pleased you’ve…decided to join us again today.” That was very diplomatic of him, Damen thought.

“Hope you’ve been doing well, doctor.” Damen said, shaking the proffered hand that Paschal extended. “Wouldn’t miss this, I assure you.” Damen thoughtfully ignored the glare that Laurent unsubtly shot in his direction.

“Well,” Paschal turned to Laurent and the glare disappeared, “shall we begin?”

“I’ll wait out here.” Damen responded before Laurent could make some other barbed remark and he began to sit back down without a fight. “As usual…I’ll wait out here and if anything should go wrong, I’ll be in immediately.” He gave an assuring smile to Laurent.

Laurent gave a curt nod in Damen’s general direction and actually led the way into Paschal’s office. Once again, Damen was stuck by just how nervous it made him to not be able to see Laurent.

At least while Laurent was having his session, Damen heard from Pallas about dinner that night so that way he could occupy his thoughts with their plans for that evening. It seemed like he would have an extra problem or two to ponder before the appointment was over.

‘ _I certainly hope your client is fond of barbecue. We’ve decided to go to a place on the south side of campus. I’ll send the address_.’

Damen received the address a few seconds later and his stomach sunk a little, as he looked up the restaurant online. Laurent was going to be out of his element surrounded by Damen’s coworkers who were used to constant physical activity. As such they were extremely fond of meat.

The restaurant in question was of the Korean barbecue variety and as such would boast a near constant parade of beef and pork to be fried on the grill. Laurent and his salad-loving ass would hate such a thing. However, Damen felt it would be rude since the two of them had been invited along to question the choice in restaurant. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he really wanted to eat barbecue…nothing at all.

‘ _Sounds great._ ’ He responded with full intent to apologize to Laurent after the meal. ‘ _What time should we meet you guys there_?’

‘ _7 PM_ , _’_ Pallas replied almost immediately. ‘ _We’ll be going out for drinks afterwards as well, to our usual place, but we know since you’re on the job you can’t drink. You don’t have to come with us there if you don’t want._ ’

‘ _Thanks we’ll see you guys then,_ ’ Damen was so pleased that his friends understood the constraints of work and how ill at ease it would have put him to drink while simultaneously protecting Laurent. In all honesty, he didn’t mind missing out on going to their favorite bar, but he would leave that decision entirely up to Laurent, since his little hellcat would probably not be best pleased at the thought of so much meat for dinner.

Damen continued to read to himself for the remainder of the hour and decided, as he read, to simply not even mention the type of food they would be eating that evening to spare Laurent cancelling at the last minute.

When the hour was up, Laurent emerged looking carefully unreadable. This immediately put Damen on edge.

Before he could ask the question that Laurent could probably see coming, Laurent raised his hand and interrupted. “Paschal wants to talk to you for a moment. _Before_ you argue,” (Damen was about to do just that), “I will be sitting outside the door. I won’t move, I won’t leave, and I swear this on the life of my brother. If I disappear you have my permission to kill Auguste.” He said all of this with a note of sarcasm but Damen trusted Laurent enough on his own to not fear any more tests.

“Ok…Ok I trust you. But why---?”

“I am not Paschal.” Laurent responded as he sat in the chair closest to the door, “and therefore I do not know why. Just go in, for fucks’ sake.”

Damen shrugged and obeyed, although he did not relish the thought of leaving Laurent completely alone out in the lobby. Instead he walked into Paschal’s comfortable, quiet office and allowed the door to be closed behind him with a soft click.

Paschal was on his computer, typing with the speedy ease of someone used to taking a lot of notes very quickly, and Damen fully intended to let him finish before he cleared his throat by way of announcing his presence. But that wasn’t needed; Paschal looked up over his delicate glasses and gave Damen a warm smile.

“Please, Damianos, sit.” He gestured to the armchair across from his desk and not to the loveseats by the window; he was making it clear that this wasn’t to be a session free of charge. “I’ll only be a moment, just updating the patient file.”

Damen sat and waited, taking in his surroundings.

Everything in this office had been designed to make a visitor feel at ease while baring their secrets to complete stranger. It was filled with warm light and decorated simply, though the decorations were classy enough to create interest and a mood to talk. It was the kind of study any person renovating their home would wish to have.

With his unceasing smile still in place, Paschal finished his paperwork and turned to Damen.

“So! I hear you are quite fond of questions and I would like to preemptively answer one or two that are obviously swirling around on your tongue as we speak. Yes, Laurent has mentioned you in our sessions and yes, I do have his permission to discuss these matters with you.”

“I-I see.” Damen replied, still confused as to why he was here. “If these things concern Laurent, why are you in charge of telling me?

“Ah,” Paschal smiled indulgently, “Sometimes it’s easier for someone else to explain a person’s weaknesses than for them to do it. As I’ve said, he’s given me express permission to do this and I do think it will help your working relationship. Now…” Paschal clasped his hands in front of him, very businesslike, “I understand something very… _shocking_ happened a few days ago in Laurent’s bedroom?”

For a moment, unbidden, Damen thought of his dream, of Kastor pushing down Laurent and the heat and the cries, but then he remembered the photographs and the incident in the bathroom.

“Yeah…shocking. You might say that, yeah.” He wondered if Paschal would blame him for the incident.

Paschal shook his head but it was more in sadness than any other emotion. “Such evil that plagues some people, I cannot even imagine it…And you cannot assume the blame yourself. From what I heard, you behaved quite admirably, despite the…circumstances. I thought we might discuss how to handle trauma in the future, just in case. I don’t doubt your size or you skills, but…it always helps to be prepared.”

Damen nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

He remembered how helpless he had felt seeing Laurent lifelessly sitting on his own bed or boiling in the shower. He would like to avoid a repeat of those circumstances, if at all possible.

“Handling this varies from person to person but…I believe talking softly and simply is the best course of action, especially to ask what he might need from you. Your size is, erm, quite _impressive_ so try not to run about in a fury.” Damen blushed at how easily this doctor seemed to see through him. “It’s best to keep calm. And in Laurent’s case…I would suggest if there are any pictures to remove them as fast as you possibly can.” Damen’s confusion must have shown on his face because Paschal elaborated, his smile all but disappearing. “Laurent…is very afraid of having his picture taken or seeing photos of himself. It is a long story and one I am not at liberty to tell but…just remember: if there are any photos, get rid of them first. It will make calming much easier.”

“Thank you,” Damen said. “Is there anything else I should take note of?”

“Whatever you have been doing thus far is very helpful.” Paschal’s smile was back and it helped Damen relax. “In my time with Laurent I can honestly say, I have never seen him so well-rested as I have in the two weeks you have spent with him. Yes…whatever you have been doing is sufficient I think.”

As if to indicate that Paschal was at his limits for information to divulge, he stood in preparation to accompany Damen out. The effect was comical as he was much shorter than Damen.

“I cannot imagine the stresses of your profession,” Paschal admitted as they reached the door, “but…I am relieved Laurent has someone to protect him. I hope…I hope you continue to stay with him despite the difficulties.”

“Of course,” Damen replied, clutching Paschal’s slender hand in his own grip, hoping that his sincerity could be felt through a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll not leave Laurent. I won’t let anyone touch him.”

Paschal grinned wide at this.

When the two of them emerged from Paschal’s office, Laurent stood stiffly, once again trying a little too hard to look unaffected. He must have hated it, Damen realized, to know that two people who knew a little too much about him were having a discussion about him behind closed doors. Paschal must have had the same thought, because he patted Laurent on the shoulder in a familiar gesture of assurance.

“Well now, I suppose that can end our session for this week. I hope to see the both of you again next week. Damianos?”

Damen nodded in acknowledgment and obediently followed Laurent out.

His mind was ablaze, though he took care to make himself look calm. Though Paschal had given him some interesting insight into Laurent’s personality quirks, one thing burned away at him as he looked at Laurent’s face, a face that people couldn’t help but want to gaze on. And he wondered…wondered why Laurent would fear someone taking his photo.

 

Laurent took longer than usual in the bathroom that day and Damen wondered why it was taking him so long to get ready. He was already dressed and ready in a shirt that was a little too small to showcase the musculature of his chest and a pair of dark wash jeans, his taser tucked into his pocket. He was waiting to put on his boots until Laurent was ready.

At thirty minutes to seven, Damen was beginning to wonder if Laurent had fainted in the bathtub. It couldn’t possibly be that he was struggling to decide what to wear; ninety percent of his clothes were black.

With a light touch, Damen rapped on Laurent’s closed door. “Erm…Laurent? We have to leave in ten minutes. Are you almost ready?”

He didn’t expect an answer, but a few seconds later the door whipped open and Damen’s senses were overcome with the scent of almond blossom and a light spicy cologne. Then he saw Laurent, a little flushed, but otherwise as graceful as usual.

“I believe so. Is this adequate attire for dinner with friends?”

Damen relished the excuse to take a long look at Laurent. All black, as per the usual, so he looked lithe and graceful and perhaps a little too classy for Damen and his friends. The black sweater looked brand new and he appeared to have even attempted to style his hair. So that explained the lateness.

“That looks really nice.” Damen replied honestly, unable to keep from smiling. “You look…” He took too long to think of a proper adjective to describe Laurent’s appearance and Laurent turned back to fetch his wallet and shoes.

He made his grand appearance five minutes later, looking elegant and dignified and, truth be told, a little nervous.

Damen had just finished lacing up his boots and saw Laurent twisting his hands within themselves. “Ah…striking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Striking.” Damen replied, clapping Laurent on the shoulder, though he ached to put his hand on the small of Laurent’s back, “That’s the word I was looking for earlier. You look striking.” It was a point of pride for him, to shock someone as unflappable as Laurent to the point of speechlessness. And this speechlessness lasted until their cab pulled in front of the restaurant.

Damen could _feel_ Laurent’s glare the moment they stepped out of the car and were confronted by the aroma of roasting meat.

“Barbecue, is it?” Laurent’s voice was soft and annoyed.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Damen shrugged as he held open the door for Laurent, “And I felt it would be rude to question their choices when they were kind enough to invite us along. I’m sure they’ll have cabbage or seaweed soup for you to eat.” Laurent flipped Damen off with chilling grace and a few of the Korean staff members stared in amazement at either his rudeness or his pretty face.

Damen’s friends were already seated around the table and they rose respectfully at the sight of Laurent.

“Hey guys,” Damen said sheepishly, doubting if they could hear him through the sheer power of Laurent’s beauty, “this is my client, Laurent. Laurent of course you know Nikandros,” though he had also gotten to his feet, Nikandros was pointedly ignoring Laurent’s gaze, “but the rest…this is Pallas and then Aktis and finally Lydos.”

It appeared that Laurent was going to be on his best behavior tonight, if only to spite Nikandros, as he turned on the full force of his charm, something Damen had only ever seen at the company dinner party. Aside from Nikandros, it was working; Aktis and Lydos were both overtly polite in offering Laurent a seat and even Pallas---whose taste in men was usually limited to the scruffy, hipster types---was enamored and blushing with Laurent’s attentions.

“Is this the same person?” Nikandros asked in a whisper as Laurent made a witty comment, causing the other three to laugh.

“Be nice.” Damen murmured, also enthralled. It was rare for even him to see this amiable side of Laurent. And if Laurent was shocked by the sheer amount of meat that was ordered by his five companions a few moments later, he hid it extremely well.

“You don’t need to worry about any of your problems, Sweet Pea.” Aktis said, already boldly familiar with Laurent and heedless of any awkwardness his blunt tongue caused. “Surrounded by the lot of us, you’re the safest man in this city.” Damen waited for an explosion, even though Aktis had no idea what Laurent needed to be protected from.

But Laurent smiled. “Might have to start a fight then. See if you can put your money where your mouth is.”

Aktis looked like he was about to make a very flowery pronouncement of love after this reply, but Pallas deftly interrupted, as he was used to Aktis by now. “Have you been to this restaurant before?”

Damen coughed to disguise his laughter at the very thought.

But Laurent’s poker face was magnificent. He did not blink when the meal began to arrive in a steady wave. And what a meal it was.

There were several dishes offered as service or as garnish for the meat itself: enormous red-orange piles of kimchi, lettuce and perilla leaves, yellow globes of garlic and sweet onion, steamed egg, seaweed soup, metal bowls of steamed rice, and a seemingly endless selection of salts and sauces for dipping. What with the enormous charcoal brazier taking up the center of the table, it looked impossible to fit anything else. But the servers were professionals.

After finding room for two plates of brisket, four of pork belly, one of beef tongue, and another two of pork flap meat, there was no room for anyone to place their drinks down.

Conversation mingled alongside the sounds of sizzling meat as Lydos and Damen used tongs to lay meat and vegetables on the metal grate over the coals. Laurent was quick with his wit and with pouring the enormous bottle of beer into rapidly emptying glasses. Damen nearly dropped his own glass of water as Laurent accepted some of the smallest and leanest cuts of meat from Lydos and folded them into leaves of lettuce with rice, onion, and kimchi.

The topics of conversation flowed easily while Damen grilled and he heard his name mentioned.

“I assume Damen over here hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.” Aktis said jokingly, already on his third or fourth glass of beer. “You might not believe it, but that strapping, young fellow across from us used to be so brash, he wouldn’t even listen to the advice of his closest friends.”

“I can’t imagine,” Laurent replied with a wicked smile. “Though I’d like to see someone try to and avert him from his decisions…”

“You have no idea!” Aktis was animated, gesticulating wildly with his metal chopsticks. “There was one time when some asshole and his friends were trying to pick a fight with Pallas.” Pallas blushed deep when Laurent glanced his way; Aktis had no tact but he made up for it with his sunny disposition. “That Damen fucking picked them up and threw them out of the bar, one right after the other. Not even the bouncer could stop him and he didn’t get a scratch in return. It was almost inspiring to watch.”

“I was young and wild,” Damen admitted, turning over a piece of beef, “But you exaggerate.”

Aktis neatly ignored Damen and turned back to Laurent. “There are two universal truths to our boss: he _always_ wins fights and,” Damen felt himself stiffen as he knew what was coming next, “he _only_ dates blondes.”

“If you’d like a practical demonstration,” Damen interrupted before things got out of hand by slapping the cooked meat in front of Aktis and Laurent, “I can throw you out on your ass if you continue to reveal any more of my sordid past.” But it was a little too late as he noticed Laurent staring at him with a bit of suspicion. As ostentatious as it was, Laurent would probably be _very_ aware of the luster and color of his hair.

Pallas once again saved the conversation from an awkward pause by changing the subject. “We hope Damen can be reinstated to an, erm, proper position in our company. Do you plan to work for your family company?”

They remembered who his elder brother was and Laurent took a bite of steamed egg to hide his disgust.

“No…I intend to be a lawyer.”

Damen began to ignore their conversation to talk quietly with Nikandros over the sound of sizzling. “Speaking of the company…has Kastor noticed that I’ve been gone?”

Nikandros chewed thoughtfully. “No…no we’ve managed to handle the jobs that come in but…it’s odd. I thought we were going to get caught a few days ago when one of Kastor’s little spies dropped by. But they didn’t even ask after you…perhaps we can count ourselves lucky that Kastor considers us of so little consequence.”

“Thank you.” Damen replied, brushing off the insult from his brother. “I just need a little more time…then Auguste had better deliver or I’ll tear him apart.”

“Oh without a doubt.” Nikandros responded. “Just let me know if you need any help.”

“Trust me, I want the joy of beating that man all to myself.” Damen replied over a mouthful of food. But it was odd, he thought, that Kastor who was so paranoid would not realize that his brother was MIA in the company. It didn’t seem like Kastor, it was too easy… Damen decided to worry about it later.

Obviously the beer had been flowing very freely between Lydos, Aktis and Laurent, as the three of them were flushed deep and grinning wide, though Laurent seemed to be doing more pouring than drinking. Nikandros followed his gaze.

“You better be careful, Damen.” He cautioned at an even softer whisper. “Are you sure you want to break one of your rules for work?” Damen’s gaze must have been truly withering because Nikandros made an immediate attempt to defend himself. “You’ve been _staring_. I know you well enough to know that look.”

“Not now.” Damen hissed. But clearly Nikandros wasn't going to forget. He never forgot to nag.

However, he held off on it until they finished their meal and moved to the crowded bar nearby. Damen felt completely at ease, as Lydos, Aktis, and Pallas were all clustered around Laurent in a protective half-circle. Even someone as slender as Lydos was capable of taking down a man Damen’s size and sweet-looking Pallas was overly-fond of a move that could shatter a human jaw in three different places, so Laurent was very safe in present company.

Damen gripped a bottle of water, determined not to drink, when Nikandros reopened his grievances without any niceties. “Damen, you remember what happened last time. Although you weren’t necessarily guarding---.”

“ _Nikandros_.” Damen disliked this topic of conversation. “Don’t bring her up again. I can’t…handle it…”

“They could be _twins_ ,” Nikandros insisted in his annoyingly calm voice. “You need not say anything. I can see him well enough. I can see how you look at him. He is the brother of your enemy and you look at him like…like…”

“I am well aware!” Damen hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t you say it Nikandros. I never want to hear that name again. Don’t you dare say it or I won’t speak you for a month.”

Apparently Nikandros was taking the threat seriously.

His shoulders slumped a little and he sighed at Damen’s predictability. “Ok, ok, I’ll drop it but…I hope I don’t have to remind you how dangerous it is to get… _romantically_ involved with a client, even one with such bright gold hair.”

Damen knew Nikandros did not mean to do it, but that chip of icy pain that had been lodged and forgotten deep in his heart began to throb at the memory of it all. He had tried to push the memories out of his mind. He had tried to forget the feeling of the soft golden waves pouring through his fingers, of the taste of her lips, of the sound of her bell-like laugh. But it was all coming back to him in waves that were more of a punch to the gut.

He took a long swig of water and wished it were alcohol. But Nikandros did not push Damen any further, perhaps seeing the pain that he had caused.

It was true, she and Laurent resembled each other but…

As he rejoined Laurent, he could better appreciate their differences. Though Laurent smiled less, when he did it was positively blooming. Starting from the light in his eyes, it flushed in his cheeks until he could no longer hold back and it split across his face in a shy smile. And he was more tempered, more thoughtful, more…

Laurent glanced at him and attempted to bite back a smile at some madness Aktis was spouting and Damen’s heart flipped over in his chest.

Maybe Nikandros was right about how transparent he was.

In that case…maybe he was treading on dangerous territory. He made sure his expression was as smooth and unreadable as possible as he pondered in the quiet moments at the bar. Everyone was so focused on Laurent that they didn't seem to notice Damen was quieter than usual. It gave time to think before they left the bar around midnight and hailed a cab.

Before they left, Damen took the opportunity to leave Laurent with his friends for a split second and run to an ATM so that he could wire the money to Nicaise. Although he trusted his friends with his own life, he still punched in the numbers quickly and secretly waved goodbye to two thousand dollars as the machine made an insulting little song at the complete transaction. He snatched the receipt and hurried back to the group. Laurent was craning to look for him and Damen patted him on the shoulder when he returned.

Aktis, Pallas, and Lydos seemed reluctant to part from Laurent, who had been nothing but sweet, intelligent, and funny the entire evening. As such, they were smitten and extracted something close to a promise that he would join them for dinner again in the future.

“Bring him again, Damianos.” Aktis insisted, bordering on being tipsy as he embraced Damen. “He’s so much fun, I have no idea what Nikandros was blathering about a few days ago…” Nikandros rolled his eyes in response.

Damen said his goodbyes to the rest of his friends before sliding into the back of the taxi next to Laurent. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, Damen sank into the seat in exhaustion over having to deal with all the stress. Surprisingly, Laurent did not seem nearly as tired, though he was usually the more antisocial of the two of them.

“Your friends are certainly…lively.” Laurent remarked after a long moment of silence for Damen to recuperate his thoughts.

“I’m sorry if they were a bit too wild,” Damen said thinking of Aktis.

“No, no. It was…” Laurent bit his bottom lip as he attempted to organize what he wanted to say, “it was _interesting_. I’ve never really…had dinner and drinks with friends before so…it was more…amusing than I expected.” It struck him with melancholy to remember that Laurent was unused to spending time eating and joking with friends.

“You can just say it was fun.” Damen said. Laurent ignored him.

When he made no further attempts at conversation, Damen contented himself with the silence and watched the lights of city blur through the windows of the car. He was silent for the rest of the way home, though his mind was buzzing with memories he wished he could forget…

As they reentered Laurent’s apartment, Damen wanted to do nothing more than to sink into the couch and rest. He kicked off his boots and threw himself dramatically onto the couch as Laurent headed towards his own room. The only thing he paused to do was send a text message to Nicaise to let him know that the money had been transferred to his account and that they needed to schedule an appointment to meet soon. Damen was praying he wouldn’t be woken again in the middle of the night, as he was extremely exhausted from the stress of his evening.

“Damianos?”

“Mmmph?” He said by way of response.

“Are you…not going to ask me the questions this evening? I refuse to let them roll over to tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Damen laughed into the cushion, “I wouldn’t have expected it to be any other way. No…tonight I’ll let you off easy and you can go to bed without me ‘bothering’ you with my questions.”

There was a pause and then. “Damianos, are you…”

When he did not finish his sentence, Damen sat up out of concern. Laurent was just looking toward him in confusion. He was so lovely it seemed to twist Damen’s heart. “Am I what?”

“Nothing.” Laurent shook his head and turned away. “It’s nothing.”

“I won’t let him touch you, Laurent.” Damen said, as Laurent began moving towards his bedroom. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”

“Good night Damen.”


	15. Day 14: The Way it Feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much love as I'm giving all of you recently this angsty-axe is gonna fall soon and it's gonna fall HARD. Haha brace yourselves but I won't say when ;)  
> Anyways this one might be one of my favorite chapters: reluctantly cute Nicaise, more questions, Laurent showing concern in his own way, and a bit of something special at the end? So much fun to write! Also Laurent's comment about garlic is my view on it; if you don't wake up the next day tasting garlic, there wasn't enough in the dish.   
> Enjoy!

** Day 14: The Way it Feels **

Luckily Laurent did not wake during the night and Damen woke to thirty-five text messages from Nicaise discussing the dates and times he was available as well as his ranting and raving over Damen’s lack of response. Despite the tough crowd he normally ran with, even Damen was amazed by how many new and creative ways the word ‘fuck’ could be used by the tiny child.

With a soft groan, he rolled over onto his stomach and immediately dialed Nicaise’s number. Though it was six A.M. Damen did not care if he woke the annoying brat up. In fact, he kind of hoped that the call did wake him…

“Good morning, brat.” Damen said through a yawn as the call connected.

“ _Fuck you_! Why didn’t you respond to any of my messages?”

“Because, like most humans, I sleep between the hours of midnight and six A.M. Speaking of which, did I wake you?”

“No, I have been up all night playing games.” Nicaise responded in his bell-like, unbroken voice. “You must be positively ancient if you fall asleep after the evening news and wake up before teenagers fall asleep. If you have struggles in the bedroom I have a pill or two left over that can put your limp fucking pole through the tightest virgin’s ass.”

“My god,” Damen said with a feeling of distinct nausea in his stomach; he had forgotten just how sobering it was to speak with Nicaise, “please stop saying such things.”

“If you wire me, mmm, about five thousand more, I might consider letting you spank me if that makes you feel any better.” His voice was dripping with cruel joy, as he probably only said such things to disturb Damen. It was working beautifully.

“It does not, I assure you.” Damen said tartly, hoping desperately to change the topic of conversation. “And judging by your statement, you’ve received payment. I have the receipt in case you’d like to argue otherwise.”

It was in Nicaise’s nature to do so but, thwarted by Damen’s foresight, he decided to be cooperative. “Yes, I received it. All two thousand.”

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Damen quipped sarcastically.

“Too late,” Nicaise shot back and Damen was about to be incredibly annoyed until Nicaise revealed just which institution was going to relieve him of his funds, “you wouldn’t believe how many tutors it takes to get someone so clever into middle school by this coming autumn. Apparently learning how to bargain over the price of fucking various body cavities is not a useful skill for eighth year math class…”

He could not hide the excitement in his tone completely. For someone who had never had a normal childhood and, in all likelihood, had never been to school once, it was probably cause for great excitement. Damen was filled with unwilling fondness and he did not feel the loss of two thousand dollars as acutely as before. At least it was going to something good and healthy for this brat.

“I am sure your tutor was at a loss for words.”

“Surprisingly a lot of them are when I speak,” Nicaise said with wicked pride, “I had not known that was prerequisite to tutor.”

“I promise you, it is not the norm.” Damen said, smiling despite himself. “But I wish you the best of luck in your studies. I’m sure you’ll find your teachers equally speechless. Anyways, concerning our meeting…which day and time works best for you?”

Nicaise was silent for a long moment. “Will your client be an issue?”

“I…don’t think so.” Damen said, though his answer probably sounded unsure at best, “but I can figure something out if you give me enough time.”

“Is this Saturday ok? Maybe around five P.M.?”

Damen wondered how he could find a way to keep Laurent safe for an hour or if he should just bear the awkwardness and bring Laurent along with him. He would like to see Nicaise go up against someone who was more than a match in being a conniving little bitch. “Y…Yes. As of right now that should work. I’ll let you know if some problem comes up and we need to reschedule, ok?”

“Ok.” Nicaise sounded like he would be supremely annoyed if Damen were to do such a thing. But then his tone changed to one of businesslike discomfort. “Is there…is there anything you wish for me to…prepare for our meeting?”

It took Damen a moment to translate the true meaning of his words and when he did he was filled with revulsion.

“ _Nicaise_ ,” He said with firm and utter sincerity, “I would never, _never_ purchase your services. I swear on my goddamn life that I will not lay a finger on you unless it’s to protect you from someone who wishes you harm. You don’t need to be afraid of me or prepare anything. I have _zero_ intentions of…of f-fucking you.”

“That was a lovely speech,” Nicaise said sarcastically but that nervous tone was missing from his voice now.

“Thank you.”

“Haaaa…ok. I suppose I will just have to be surprised by whatever nonsense you dream up by this weekend.”

“I will see you on Saturday.” Damen replied. “Maybe.”

Nicaise hung up by way of response.

Damen tossed his phone on the table and stretched out to his full length, his toes trembling with exertion. Then he leapt to his feet to get ready to prepare breakfast. He was feeling the liveliest since Sunday, as it was the first night he had been able to sleep soundly and without interruption.

There was still some residual hurt from his conversation with Nikandros the previous evening but he decided to fight those feelings back and deal with them later, rather than have Laurent notice and be affected by his stress.

Today’s breakfast was easy to make, though it took some time in the oven, and it wasn’t long before Laurent showed up to the rich, warm smell of fresh baking bread and the sight of Damen slicing white peaches, strawberries, and ripe kiwis and avocados. Damen smiled at him.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Did you know,” Laurent replied as he drew up a chair, “that even after brushing my teeth twice, I can still taste garlic on my breath?”

“That’s how you know there was enough garlic in the recipe.” Damen replied.

Laurent was content to watch as Damen finished piling fruit onto a plate, set out a variety of spices to sprinkle on top, and began slicing the still warm loaf of bread, but there was obviously something he wanted to say as Damen took a seat across from him.

Laurent chose avocado, orange slices, cinnamon and crumbled almonds for his first slice and took one loud, crunchy bite as Damen was slathering his own with yogurt. He waited until Damen was about to bite down to pose his question.

“Are you still annoyed with Nikandros?”

Damen finished his bite before he saw fit to answer. The bread was delicious, crispy on the crust and soft and chewy in the middle; the chewing bought him time to think about how he was going to answer. He decided honesty was the best policy, but he would only supplement a barebones answer.

“I was not aware I was annoyed with him to begin with. So…I suppose, no I am not.”

“Please,” Laurent said dismissively, “you ignored all others last night in favor of chatting with each other. Which you did so heatedly, might I add.” When Damen continued to munch silently, Laurent continued. “We have been living together for the past fourteen days and you are refreshingly transparent. I think I would notice when you are annoyed.”

“Ok, ok,” Damen replied, hiding his current annoyance by licking yogurt from the corner of his mouth, “You’re right, Nikandros was getting on my nerves last night but…he means well. He only wanted to…talk about past relationships. Past mistakes of mine.” The toast tasted a little bitter on his tongue at the thought. “He means well but…it’s not pleasant to be reminded your weaknesses, is it?”

“I’m somewhat of an expert on the subject.” Laurent replied with no emotion. “But…I understand. It…it wasn’t due to me was it?”

“No…not you.” Damen said.

“Is it someone Kastor took from you?”

The guess was so nonchalant, so perfect that Damen almost choked on his second piece of toast. Laurent watched him, calm and unblinking, as he coughed up crumbs and took a deep drink of milk.

“Can…can we talk about this on a later date? It’s very personal, if I can be frank with you.” Damen was at war with his own emotions, torn between annoyance, shock, sadness and that bitter pain he would have liked to forget the feeling of.

“You loved this person.” Laurent said. “And Kastor took them from you.”

Damen slapped his breakfast down on the plate, although he wished to put his fist through the table. In Laurent’s defense, he did not even flinch but looked at Damen as a cat on a fence might look down at barking dog. The annoyance waned; Damen’s nature was not meant for prolonged anger at the people he cared for, and it was doubly so with Laurent.

“Yes…yes, I guess…that’s exactly what happened. Jesus, what a hell of a breakfast…” And the day had started off so well.

“I apologize for ruining your morning.” Laurent replied. “But you did not shout at Nikandros. Your calm was incredibly unnerving and now you have slapped something, even if it was a defenseless piece of toast. I hope you feel better, you brute.” Damen could not help himself and he snorted at Laurent’s ridiculous ‘therapy’. But it was true; shouting had relieved some of the pressure that had built up, unknowingly, since the night before.

“You didn’t ruin my morning.” Damen assured and now it was Laurent’s turn to laugh.

“For god’s sake! I do wish you’d quit regarding me as if I was made out of glass. I preferred it when you shouted, honestly. You remind me too much of those sycophantic businessmen when you smile and secretly want to tear my throat out.”

“I _assure_ you,” Damen said, “that is not what they’d like to do to your throat.”

“Regardless,” Laurent waved his hand as if to dismiss any further talk of his lovely neck, “I am not so weak and easily swayed that your brother can take me as well.”

“Thank you…” Damen said, “for pissing me off and then attempting to cheer me up.”

“ ‘Attempting’ implies failure,” Laurent responded, now on his third piece of toast, “And I did no such thing. The mood was heavy last night and I wished to improve it. If you want to brood and wallow in retrospection, do so while I am asleep. During the waking hours, I am responsible for those activities.”

“Duly noted,” Damen replied with another bubble of laughter. “It wouldn’t matter anyways. I wouldn’t let Kastor set eyes on you to begin with.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. But Damen did feel better.

He supposed he would be able to repay the favor Laurent had unknowingly given, provided him with some peace of mind, but…he never expected that the opportunity would come about so soon…

 

Their day had gone about surprisingly well: class as usual, a modest lunch, a few hours in the library, and then dinner. Laurent apparently found that cooking suited him better than before and helped Damen prepared the mango salsa to go with their baked, orange-glazed salmon. Perhaps as concession to their heated topic of conversation over breakfast, Laurent did not bring up Nikandros, Kastor, or Damen’s past relationships for the entirety of the rest of the day.

As Damen was about to fall asleep, he thought that only the accompaniment of another good nights’ rest would complete a mostly relaxing day.

It felt as though he had been asleep for all of five seconds, before he felt himself being jabbed insistently on the shoulder. Immediately exhaustion hit him in a wave, and he refused to open his eyes just in case it was a trick of his own mind.

“Goddamn it, Damianos,” Laurent hissed, “I know you're awake.”

“Five more minutes mom.” He joked groggily and was rewarded by another swift jab right in his belly button. Damen grunted and opened one eye. Predictably, Laurent was looking down at him, arms crossed. “Oh Laurent…I almost didn’t recognize you…looking so tall…”

It looked like it was taking every shred of Laurent’s self-control not to drop his elbow hard into Damen’s stomach.

“You _must_ not be tired if you have the energy and intellect to vex me so.”

“Can’t sleep?” Damen asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I thought that was readily evident.”

“Oh my god…” Damen sighed dropping backwards onto the couch. “Give me a moment…” He had every intention of following Laurent to the library, but he just needed to build up the strength of mind to know he was not going to sleep well that night.

“Is…is it too much to ask?” Laurent was a little more honest when the shadows obscured his expressions.

“No,” Damen admitted, sitting up immediately. “It’s…just the couch in there is a little too small for the both of us…I think. I can’t curl up as small as you do.”

Laurent bit his lip---Damen saw a flash of white teeth---and thought. As he thought, he muttered to himself and Damen laughed softly as he heard Laurent complaining under his breath. “If only you weren’t so fucking huge this wouldn’t be a problem…If only I could sleep through the night…but then again I suppose it is useless to complain about the things I can’t control… _fuck_.” Damen yawned widely as he let Laurent talk out the problem. “…Ok…Ok.”

Finally Laurent seemed to come to a conclusion and Damen stood wordlessly, once again surprised by how small and delicate Laurent was in comparison to him. Laurent did not reveal his latest course of action and Damen decided he would find out in due time, so he followed in silence.

Laurent walked to the library and Damen had to make a concerted effort not to let the grimace of annoyance show on his face. He would sleep on that damned couch for Laurent, and Laurent alone, but he would not enjoy a fucking second of it.

However, Laurent did not enter the library, but instead perched himself by the threshold.

“Choose a book.”

“Excuse me?”

Laurent gave the sigh of someone who was dealing with a great burden. “Choose…a…book.” He repeated slowly, “I don’t care which one. Just choose and let’s get this over with.”

Damen rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He’d have better chance making heads or tails of a baby’s mindless babbling than trying to decipher Laurent’s reasoning for anything. Instead, he made his selection slow and agonizing so that his golden hellcat had to wait on him for once.

He selected one slim volume of poems; his grandmother had liked poems well enough and he liked the way they seemed to roll off the tongue and melt into the air. Hopefully for Laurent, poetry was conducive to sleep.

Holding the book aloft victoriously, Damen sidled up next to Laurent in preparation for a new set of orders. Instead Laurent just looked up at him, studying his face intently, as if looking for something in Damen’s expression. Damen looked back, marveling more at the lovely balance of features than the guarded expression, until Laurent turned the lights off.

Then he turned and led the way.

Damen felt as though he was losing his grip on reality as Laurent turned away from the library, away from the couch in the living room and walked towards his own bedroom. Damen paused before he entered and Laurent to look at him.

“What is it?”

“This…this is your bedroom.” Damen said as though he did not believe it himself.

“Is it really?” Laurent asked sarcastically, peering inside as if he expected something different. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed inside,” Damen shot back.

“Don’t be difficult.” Laurent said with a note of exhaustion in his tone. “Believe me when I say I am by far the most uncomfortable in this situation. But it’s the only place big enough for the two of us to sleep comfortably, unless you'd prefer the floor…”

“You started it.” Damen whispered, flicking Laurent’s ear in a gesture of apology.

Laurent’s bedside lamp was on, providing a halo of warm light in the otherwise pitch-dark room. The last time Damen had seen this room was the sweep he had done of it following the horrible day of the break-in. It had struck him as very cold and impersonal, sparsely decorated for a bedroom, but now in the quiet of the night, he could see some of the comfort in the clean lines and stark colors.

Laurent’s one selfishness---aside from his library---was that his bed was huge and lush, the mattress expensive memory foam and crowned by a half dozen down pillows.

Laurent nestled down in the sheets and, with his long lashes, he looked like an expensive china doll tucked into a human bed.

“You can stay over on that side.” Laurent ordered and Damen had not the mental capacity to argue or even ask aloud why he would be allowed to share the bed with Laurent that evening. Certainly he had dreamed about such a thing, but in his thoughts, things had gone a little…differently and reading a book of poetry was not exactly the kind of thing he had expected to do…

Instead, he was too tired to argue and got in on the side furthest from Laurent.

Damen was vaguely aware that he had not slept in a bed in over two weeks as he settled in the spot closest to the lamp and the mattress curved sensuously against his back. He suddenly feared for his ability to stay awake long enough to read.

It was surreal.

The soft, deep baritone of his voice was the only sound in the room as the poems flowed out of his mouth in a steady rhythm. Before long, it became almost mindless: his mind not comprehending the words as he spoke them aloud.

Instead, all he could feel was the softness of the bed, his own exhaustion and the faint heat that came from Laurent’s body.

When Laurent’s body was slack against the bed and his eyes stayed closed, even as Damen read softer and softer, ceasing entirely when he could barely keep his own eyes open to look at the pages. Carefully, so as not to jostle or wake Laurent, he placed the book on the bedside table and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Laurent had not exactly given him express permission to stay but…it would honestly take a miracle of heaven to remove him from this bed…

He was teetering on the edge of sleeping and hazy wakefulness when Laurent’s voice brought him back to clarity. “Damianos?”

“I thought you were asleep.” Damen slurred, the sentence coming out in one word.

“Close enough,” Laurent whispered, “I can’t sleep…I keeping wondering…why do you hate my father and…my brother?” His voice was so guileless and sweet under the cover of darkness that Damen could not help but answer truthfully.

He spoke through his yawns and bouts of nearly falling asleep. “So…I don't know the whole story myself but…my company used to guard many of the corporate bigwigs in your company and our fathers were…well, they weren’t close, but I mean close enough for business partners. From, what I heard from my father, apparently one of our guys was running maintenance on some computers in your company building and they found some files downloaded. I don’t know what was on those files but my father said…it was most definitely illegal and incredibly disturbing. He said he was going to report it to Aleron and the police but…”

Laurent rustled the sheets as he rolled on his side. “Let me guess. My father erased those files?”

“You are remarkably good at guessing today,” Damen replied, “which makes me think you aren’t guessing at all.”

“I know my father,” Laurent murmured sleepily.

“Yeah…that’s exactly what happened. And my father said apparently that sort of thing could not be forgiven. He had words with your father and well…apparently they could not find a resolution. Of course Auguste defended his father when I followed my father’s opinion. We called each other names that seem…childish now. But the enmity stuck. I guess the four of us are all…too stubborn.”

“Auguste…didn’t know…” Laurent responded.

“Didn’t know what?” Damen asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. Laurent sounded like he was about to fall asleep.

“About…exams…pictures…”

“That clears everything up,” Damen responded sarcastically. Laurent made no response this time. He must have been well and truly asleep this time. Damen decided to follow Laurent’s example.

Within literal seconds he was asleep…

…and having the most wonderful dream.

It had been so long since he had last held someone in his arms but the feeling was one he would never forget.

One arm was wrapped around a lovely, slim waist and Damen unconsciously slid his hand up and down to soothe and press that body close to him. The skin felt like that velvety smooth underside of rose petals and Damen felt legs intertwining in his own, heat pooling between his legs.

His other arm was being used as a pillow and it allowed his hand to toy lightly with hair soft, cool, and fine as unwoven strands of silk. He loved the feelings of that hair running between his fingers. His lips rested on that sweetest spot between the nape, the jaw and the sweet pink-white ear, perfect for kisses and tasting lightly of spun sugar. He could not help but indulge himself…

He had not held her in so long…

The only real difference was that she did not smell of the ocean, like normal. There was no scent of orange blossom and coconut but just the slightest hint of almond blossom. Damen shrugged at that.

He did not care so long as this person he loved was safe and warm in his arms…

In response to his dreamy joy, he squeezed in a gentle embrace and was rewarded with a little coo of satisfaction that echoed from the body in his arms all the way to his chest. He planted kisses up down the length of neck and exposed shoulder and more murmurs of satisfaction ensued.

Somewhere deep in his subconscious, Damen knew it was a dream and it filled his chest with a heavy, piercing sadness, but he could not bring himself to wake up and end the happiness he felt. _Just a little while longer_ , he promised himself and hugged his lover a little closer.

It might have been a figment of his imagination, of Damen thought he felt slim hands grip the front of his shirt in response.

A dream…but what a lovely dream it was…

He did not awaken from lovely dream until the first rays of early morning heated his body into waking. There was stiffness in his limbs, especially in his arms. It was a common thing that happened after she had used his arms as a pillow, but that wasn’t real.

When he did open his eyes it took a moment to get his bearings.

This was the most comfortable he had been in quite a while and he wondered for a moment why the light was not brighter on his face from the large picture windows in the living room. At the first sight of sheets it all came rushing back to him: Laurent waking in the middle of the night, the impromptu poetry reading, and speaking frankly of what had occurred between their respective fathers.

And Laurent _allowing_ Damen to sleep in his bed with him.

Damen was immediately filled to the brim with unanswered questions and his eyes flicked open in anticipation to greet the day. His breath caught in his chest.

As large as he was, given any amount of space, Damen would immediately spread his limbs to their full length so his arms had been spread wide in sleep. Even on a bed as large as Laurent’s it took up more than half the space and Laurent had been forced to make some adjustments himself.

He was curled up in a tiny ball on his side, once again, his long blonde hair covering his face like a sheet. But his head was resting on Damen’s wrist, Damen’s large hand cradling the back of Laurent’s head. Damen could feel his pulse through the thin skin of his wrist.

For a moment he just stayed in that position, fearful he would wake Laurent up and ruin whatever rapport they had built up. Laurent looked so relaxed and peaceful and safe…it seemed a waste to leave such a sight. Still, after a short moment of memorizing the feeling of it, Damen slid his arm out from under Laurent’s head and stood to go make breakfast.

Maybe Nikandros was onto something, Damen thought to himself as he meandered towards the kitchen.

 


	16. Day 15: The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys we are halfway through this story and I want to thank you all for making it this far with me!   
> I've been revitalized after reading 'Charls the Veretian Cloth Merchant' and...sweet jesus it is a goddamn masterpiece and if you haven't read it you must get it as soon as you can. Truly some gold in that short story! I'm so excited to see all the fanart for it!  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter because it is getting very, VERY close to that angst axe all of you are worried about/anticipating ;) I'm sure some of you know who the stalker is but soon I'm going to show you why this is happening. I'm so freaking excited!  
> Hope you all enjoy (Especially the last bit of this chapter)!

** Day 15: The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy **

Damen felt a little awkward that morning as he served up breakfast. Today he made oatmeal again, the smell of cinnamon, roasted orange zest and candied walnuts filling the room as Laurent emerged with a clean face and bright, hungry eyes. At first, Damen was a little too embarrassed to face Laurent as he remembered the compromising position he had awoken in that morning but after a while his own curiosity won out.

“Good morning Laurent. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept on my side so…no paralysis the rest of the night,” he said by way of response, “and…and you?”

Damen was a little surprised as he set down the steaming bowls onto the table; he couldn’t remember the last time Laurent had inquired as to his comfort or the quality of his sleep. “I…I have a lot of questions.”

“ _What_ a surprise.” Laurent said picking up his spoon and it was only then that Damen felt comfortable enough to look up at Laurent. “Well, I suppose there’s no helping it. Have at it.”

Damen was so surprised he didn’t even attempt to begin eating. Laurent was giving him _permission_ to ask more questions? And without caveat? Damen was immediately concerned. “Ok…first off, are you sick?” Laurent was unprepared for such a question and he snorted before he could help himself, flecks of oatmeal spraying from his mouth. Damen laughed then at the dark blue glare he was fixed with. “I’m _serious_! You let me sleep on your bed without explanation, you don’t argue about your food, and now you actually don’t mind me asking you questions? I think maybe a small fever?”

“Oh shut up,” Laurent said irritably, though his cheeks went a most attractive shade of pink, “I’m completely fine; forgive me if I’m in a good mood after getting a restful night’s sleep.”

“Ok, ok,” Damen appeased Laurent in between a bite of his breakfast, “why…did you let me sleep in your bed last night?”

That was an enormous conundrum with Laurent’s personality. That he, who hated to be touched or have anyone close to his personal space, would allow someone to not only sleep in his bed but also fall asleep while maintaining contact with another person? It was entirely unprecedented.

“Ah…well…” To his surprise, the blush on Laurent’s cheeks and ears deepened to an almost red, “to be honest it was also a pain for me to sleep on the couch so I…I thought it must be twice as uncomfortable for a brute of your size. I figured…the bed was large enough so that it would accommodate the both of us…” So he must not have remembered falling asleep on Damen’s hand. Damen decided not to mention it in hopes of being allowed to sleep on that luxuriant bed again.

“Thank you…it was…very comfortable.” Onto his second question then, “what did you mean last night when I asked you about Auguste?” Laurent’s head whipped up and the blush had gone. “Something about exams and pictures?”

Laurent took care to look unaffected and took a convenient bite of oatmeal to buy himself some time for composure. “God…I don’t even remember…I only remember up until where you finally admitted you were too stubborn.”

Damen was not sure whether or not he believed Laurent, but it was well within his rights to dodge the question if he so chose. He shrugged and continued on with his line of questioning. He really only had one or two things he had left to ask about, starting with…

“You slept through the night then?”

Laurent looked at him like he was crazy, though the bloom of color had returned to his cheeks. “Of course I did. I slept on my side so…if you will recall I did not wake up a second time.” Damen sighed in relief.

That meant that if Damen had held Laurent in his sleep or whispered untoward things whilst in the throes of sleep, then Laurent would have slept through them without question. One less thing that Laurent could use against him though, should he feel wicked or curious about Damen’s past.

Damen spent so long thinking that Laurent finished his bowl of oatmeal.

This he could appreciate; when remembering the sparse, unfulfilling meals that Laurent had eaten in his first few days here, it was satisfying to see him polish off a full bowl of oatmeal.

“Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

“I’ll eat yours if you keep ignoring it.” Laurent joked, motioning to Damen’s half-full bowl. Damen held his bowl protectively in response and Laurent giggled at the sight. It was a magical sound and Damen was beginning to see the benefits of a full night’s sleep for Laurent.

“You are utterly ridiculous, you know that?”

Damen winked at him, before returning to his oatmeal and Laurent’s cheeks flamed inexplicably. By far one of the most pleasant sights Damen had ever seen alongside his breakfast.

 

Throughout the rest of the day, Damen was trying to decide how best he could go about meeting Nicaise the next day with either Laurent agreeing to come with him or Laurent agreeing to stay with one of his friends. Damen was deciding on which path would cause the least resistance and bloodshed.

He had no idea how Laurent would react to his meddling with the previous victims of the stalker and he also wondered how Laurent would react to the fact that he had already built up some rapport with Erasmus and Torveld. At the same time he knew Pallas, Lydos, and Aktis would be beyond thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Laurent, but…a part of him felt a little guilty for keeping this important mission of his from Laurent. He was completely and utterly torn.

He had plenty of time to make a decision while he and Laurent spent their obligatory two hours in the school library. Once again, since it was a Friday afternoon, the two of them had the place pretty much to themselves.

In between snatches of watching the light filter through the gold of Laurent’s hair, Damen finally came to a decision and decided to tell Laurent his plan but omit most of the major details.

“Laurent,” Damen’s heart palpitated as Laurent looked up and the afternoon sun gilded his skin, “tomorrow…I have a meeting with someone to discuss the issues of your case. I was wondering…would you like to come along or would you prefer to stay with my friends until our meeting is over? It will only be an hour or so that I will be gone and…I assure you, you will be kept safe if that’s the case.”

Laurent mulled over this new information for a few heart-pounding moments. “Do you…do you think it will be _uncomfortable_ for me to join the two of you?”

“It depends…” Damen replied. “We will be talking about the stalker and some of his patterns so…it’s entirely up to you whether or not…you’ll be uncomfortable.”

Laurent curled a lock of hair behind his ear and looked back down at his book. “I suppose…if it’s easier for you,” the hair kept slipping out back into the direct view of his eyes, “I can stay with your friends…”

Becoming frustrated on Laurent’s behalf, Damen stood and approached Laurent unthinkingly. With one hand, he firmly pushed the hair behind Laurent’s ear. The skin there was surprisingly hot, probably from the warmth of the sun, and Damen realized immediately how inappropriate the contact was. He drew back quickly and averted his eyes.

“You’re being very…cooperative today.” Damen whispered, trying not to sound too moved in case Laurent decided to rescind his good mood. “Are you sure you’re not feeling ill?”

Laurent did not glare as he looked up at Damen, but there was a bit of something…almost like a playful challenge in his gaze. “If you are worried about your friends liking me more than you…I assure you, you are much too late for that. And I wasn’t even trying. No…I can see it on your face that it’s better if I don’t go. And to be honest, I don’t want to. I am tired of my every waking moment being filled with thoughts of that man. At least Aktis can take my mind off of things, as much as he chatters.”

“Hopefully not too much…” Damen said feeling a bit nervous at the thought.

If Nicaise was going to possibly reveal some information to him, who knew what kind of collateral he was going to have to risk in the form of information about himself. Aktis was friendly and loyal but he had no sense when to shut up and he liked Laurent. Who knew? Maybe Aktis would continue to talk indulgently of the ways his group teased Damen; of how he liked men and women with long yellow hair and wide blue eyes and an intellect quick as a whip. Damen wondered if Laurent would recognize the description of himself in that list of features. Of course he would.

And though he knew Aktis had enough sense to never mention Kastor or anything that he had done or said to Damen, if he accidentally let anything drop about…her, then Laurent might be able to connect the dots and make some inferences of his own. Damen didn't know if he could live down the mortification of such a thing…

Hopefully, Pallas, Lydos, and Nikandros could interrupt before Aktis said anything that would cause Damen pain.

As he was considering this, Damen had not moved from Laurent’s side and Laurent was looking up at him in slight confusion. “Would…would you like to sit?” The question caught Damen off guard and it must have shown on his face because Laurent patted the window seat, “Sit?”

“I heard you the first time.” Damen replied.

“Then fucking sit down.” Laurent ordered. Damen sighed and began to oblige when Laurent stopped him, putting two surprisingly strong hands on the planes of Damen’s chest. When Damen paused, Laurent dropped his hands like they had been scalded. “Not like that. With your back towards me.”

The window seat was not large enough for the both of them to recline comfortably, so Damen let his long legs dangle off the end of the cushion and felt Laurent’s thin back press up against his own. For a human being he did not seem to radiate the same heat as other people. It was like cool marble pressed up against Damen’s back and Damen sincerely hoped that Laurent could not feel the thunder of his heartbeat through his ribcage.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Damen asked after Laurent made no motion to speak.

“Oh…my _god_!” Laurent hissed and Damen heard the sound of a book slapping shut. “Are you _sure_ you’re not deaf? Because I believe I’ve said at least three times today, that I’m not ill. I can only wonder why you persist in saying it.”

Damen jerked his head back purposefully so the back of his skull bumped Laurent’s. “Because…you’re being quite…nice today.”

Perhaps it had been the wrong thing to say, because Laurent was quiet again. Maybe he was angry that Damen hinted that he wasn’t nice. Maybe he was just ignoring Damen’s foolish statements as usual. Maybe…Damen had actually offended him. The thought made him a little upset himself.

“I…I’m sorry Laurent.” Damen said softly. “I didn’t mean that. I mean…you just aren’t as…distant as you normally are.”

He bit his lip, hoping that his apology did the trick.

Laurent did not readily respond again and Damen was about to speak again when Laurent smoothly interrupted. “You know…I used to sit like this with Auguste when we were children.” Damen felt the vibrations of Laurent’s voice through his skin. “Sometimes I would…be upset and I didn’t want him to see me.”

Damen didn’t know what to do in such a situation. If this hellcat was touching him of his own volition, was it safe to ask questions?

“You didn’t want your big brother to see you cry? Totally understandable.”

Damen felt something very much like a heavy book slapping squarely onto the side of his head. “I _did not_ cry.” Laurent protested, though it seemed to lack his normal conviction and Damen could not help but laugh as he thought of snot-nosed Laurent refusing to let Auguste see him crying. “Just when I was embarrassed.”

“Of course.” Damen replied sarcastically. “I take this to mean that you are embarrassed now?”

“You’re also being very strange today!” The thought burst out of Laurent in a small explosion of emotion. “You ask me strange questions, you’re lost in thought…I had rather thought the second one was my job. The question should be what is wrong with you today.”

Damen sighed and closed his eyes.

The afternoon sun was warm on his skin and he had to admit that the heat did not just come from the sun. Even though he was confused, there was happiness too. Laurent was actually interested in the state of his mood? It seemed almost too good to be true.

“I promise nothing is wrong.” Damen said. “Just another strange dream…”

“What a pair we are,” Laurent said dryly, “my mind plays tricks on me to be in a waking nightmare and your dreams help you to be capable of thought. Maybe Auguste wasn’t so off in his selection…”

“Thank you for your rousing show of support.” Damen responded. “It wasn’t a nightmare. Just a memory that makes me sad. I guess that’s why I’ve been a little off. And then also…” He thought of Paschal and his mention of the fear of photographs, but now didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up, “I’m really interested to see what my contact tomorrow has to say.” He felt Laurent stiffen up behind him and ached to embrace the worry from his body.

“If…if I ask tomorrow…will you tell me what you know?”

It was difficult, not being able to see Laurent’s expression, but Damen decided he would do anything to soothe Laurent’s mind, even if he had to reveal that he was paying to get information from Nicaise.

“I promise I will.” Damen said. “And you won’t run away from my friends?”

Laurent snorted, breaking the tense atmosphere. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not any further than I could throw you.”

“If Aktis is to be believed then…I assume you could throw me quite a ways, you giant brute.” Though his tone was dry, Damen detected the playfulness beneath. He decided to reply in kind.

“You’re so tiny, it would be easy.” He was treated to another slap with the book.

“I am _not_ tiny. You are just enormous. It’s not fair standing next to you when you dwarf all other people.” Laurent tried to sound angry but there was a bit of laughter that he could not suppress completely. “I don’t understand why you use the elevator if you could just scale the building! And then you’re built like…like…”

It seemed that Laurent was at a loss for words and Damen was not about to let the opportunity pass. “Like a god?”

“Shut up!” Laurent tried to sound angry, but it bubbled out of him in a laugh. Damen expertly caught the book before it hit him in the same place. “And you’re so blasted arrogant, it…it drives me crazy!” It seemed Laurent heated up when he was passionate about something and Damen liked him all the better for it.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little confidence.” Damen assured.

Laurent obviously disregarded Damen’s comment with a derisive laugh. Then he went quiet again. Damen just waited. Laurent would say something when he was good and ready. “Why are you getting so involved with the details of this case?” He finally managed to ask. “Auguste is conducting his own investigation and he assured me that he is following every avenue.”

“I would trust a stray cat with a mouse before I trusted Auguste with something important to me.” Damen scoffed and Laurent snorted at his predictable reply. “If he cannot even notice the issues with the video camera then I don’t think he’s been thorough enough.” Immediately, he felt Laurent go stiff and the back against his began to cool back into fearful defensiveness. Damen instantly tried to recover the conversation.

“Besides,” He continued, trying to make his tone less scornful, much more gentle, “as you said before…your brother is very busy. There’s no harm in me checking again just to…just to make sure. And believe it or not I use everything I learn about this…” he could not even bear to mention the stalker, “to keep you safer. If I can make you…feel even a little safer then…it doesn't hurt to…you know, investigate on my own.”

When Laurent spoke, it was in a voice almost too quiet to hear. “It’s halfway over.”

Damen sighed deeply and leaned a little harder against Laurent.

He had also realized in that moment that it was their fifteenth day together. That meant it was a countdown until their thirtieth day and then to an uncertain future. With as furious as Damen had last left Auguste, he had no idea if his contract would be renewed.

He cared little about the monetary gain and Auguste still owed him the favor of his company but…

Damen weighed them out in his mind, Laurent’s safety versus what he had always worked towards. It was more than a little startling to find that the two of them were almost on par in his heart. He still wanted his company, wanted what he had worked so hard for, wanted to flaunt in the face of Kastor and his father and investors but…when he thought of Laurent alone and helpless. When he thought of another man, another bodyguard in the apartment, it ate at his very soul.

Any other wouldn’t understand.

They wouldn’t cook Laurent proper, filling meals or defend against his scathing banter. They wouldn’t know how he liked to be read to or how best to massage the almond soap into his burning skin, how to deal with that phantom that haunted him at night. Bile, black and bitter, stained his tongue as he considered that in a mere two weeks, there might be no Damen to assure Laurent that no one would touch him.

He was suddenly struggling to decide which was more important to him, which he would ultimately choose: his own small kingdom or this feisty blond boy pressed up and cool against his back.

Damen glanced down and saw Laurent’s slim left hand, balled up into a casual fist on the cushion of the window seat. If Laurent could be bold, then so could Damen. Gently, he covered Laurent’s hand with his own and squeezed it softly until it relaxed.

“Don’t worry…I’ll get him real soon. I promise.”

He let go of Laurent’s hand and paused. For a moment, it felt like his life was unreal and he could not breathe. Neither of them could.

Then to dissipate the tense atmosphere, he pressed his full weight against Laurent’s back. Laurent squawked as the two of them fell backwards and Damen began to laugh, unable to stop or defend himself as Laurent began slapping him mercilessly with his forgotten book.

 

That night Damen was messaging his group to see if Pallas, Lydos, and/or Aktis would be willing to cat-sit for him. At the prospect of seeing Laurent again so soon, all three of them responded almost immediately in the affirmative, though they appeared a little upset that it might only be for an hour or two. And they swore on their very lives that---unless there was a blaze that broke out in the apartment---they would not go out.

Damen made sure to inform Laurent of their enthusiasm and though Laurent rolled his eyes at their wild behavior, Damen took note of the blush staining Laurent’s cheeks and the way he had to constantly bite back a smile.

In between relaying messages, Damen also managed to tell Nicaise that their meeting was on and for him to choose a location to meet by the next morning. He made sure to tell Nicaise that a public place was absolutely fine to meet as well, just to drive home the point that he was not after…anything illicit.

Of course Nicaise refused to show his gratitude for any of these precautions.

After Damen had given his friends the proper time and address to arrive for their shift tomorrow, he sat in pleasant silence while Laurent continued to read and do his homework. _Fucking nerd, studying on a Friday night_.

Damen contented himself to plan the meals of the next few days, mostly to…keep his mind clear of uncomfortable truths he’d only recently become aware of.

When Laurent finally stood and stretched himself out, Damen stayed where he was.

It was only after a few moments of silence that Damen looked over and realized Laurent had not moved but was only staring at him expectantly. “Can I help you?” He asked, locking his phone.

“Do you require a written invitation?” Laure retorted.

“Depends on what for,” Damen grinned widely, “I’ll be completely honest and admit I have no idea what it is we are currently talking about. So…while I think written invitation is a bit much, I’ll settle for an explanation.”

It was clear Laurent did not want to do so, as his neck began to also began to go a little pinker than usual. He also shifted slightly as if he would walk away at any point rather than continue this conversation.

“I was under the impression…that you would be…joining me to…read again?”

Damen must have looked truly astonished because Laurent clenched his jaw.

“ _Or_ ,” His voice was sharp with annoyance, “if you prefer, you may sleep on the couch until I inevitably wake you in the middle of the night and then you can read to me then. Up to you.”

It still took a moment for Damen to recollect his thoughts and truly process what Laurent was saying. They were meant to sleep together again? Would he have those lovely dreams again where he was holding a lover? Would he wake up with Laurent’s head resting on his arm? To be honest, a positive answer to any of these would be enough to keep him in a good mood for the entirety of the following day.

Laurent glared whilst waiting for a response and Damen finally stood. “Lead on then…”

Damen was still reeling from this turn of events as he clambered onto ‘his’ side of the bed and waited for Laurent to return from brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

When Laurent emerged from the bathroom, pink-cheeked and a little sleepy, Damen was actually a little concerned over his lucid dreams and the fact that…very recently in the past they featured heavily on sex. He would make a conscious effort to wake himself up if he had one. At least he had never been known to grope a bedmate in sleep; he had simply…held them.

“Poems again?” Laurent asked as Damen reached for the book he had left on the bedside table from the previous night.

“You have a request?” Damen asked, a little in surprise, as Laurent had never stated a preference before. “Or…do you dislike poetry?”

“I don’t care either way.” Laurent said. “Just read to me until my eyes close.”

Damen obliged, once again reading by the soft lamplight until Laurent’s eyes closed and stayed closed for longer than Damen continued to read. Without waking Laurent, Damen placed the book on the bedside table and switched off the light so that he too could sleep in preparation to meet Nicaise the next day.

He was almost about to fall asleep when he heard, “Damianos?” and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Laurent obviously crushed his face into his pillow to suppress the wave of giggles and Damen glared at him through the darkness. “I _thought_ you were asleep!” He accused, his heart thundering in his chest. “Should I turn the light back on?”

“No, no… I’ll sleep soon.”

“Something bothering you?” Damen asked.

“If…If Auguste does not pay you another month…what are you going to do?” The darkness made Laurent bold.

It was a possibility that Damen had been forced to consider ever since their heart-to-heart at the library that afternoon. What would he do if Auguste did not renew his contract and could he bear to walk away from this? If Nikandros were here, of course he would tell Damen to leave immediately and find a replacement, as he was too emotionally involved. But, that was in his nature. He took these kinds of things very personally. If Laurent were hurt in his absence…he would take it very, _very_ personally.

“Would…I leave you?” Damen felt Laurent’s fear, saw him flinch in the faint sliver of moonlight that streamed in from his window. _Could he_? “No…no, Laurent. I won’t leave you to face this alone. Even if Auguste doesn’t pay me another month. I’ll stay until you’re safe.”

“I see,” Laurent responded with no emotion. But Damen saw his shoulders relax.

“Feel better?”

“As I have said before, I do not feel ill.”

“Please let me sleep then.” Damen begged. “I’ve got quite a bit to do tomorrow…”

“Fine, fine. Good night, Damianos.” Laurent sighed as if such a request was a pain to grant.

“Good night Laurent.” There was a long pause when Damen was about to fall asleep, when he remembered in a dreamy haze. “Laurent. I won’t let anyone touch you. I swear it. He’s not gonna hurt you.”

Before he drifted off to sleep, he heard, for the first time, a whispered response.

“I know…”


	17. Day 16: The Prostitute and the Predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some Nicaise, the sharpest bitch under 20? So warning for readers, the next couple chapters are gonna build in intensity and so some trigger warnings might come into play. Especially with what you might be able to guess through the hints I give you about what exactly has happened in the past. SO POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS, especially Nicaise discussing his life (nothing too revealing/inappropriate, I swear).   
> Ah Nicaise. I actually REALLY hated him in my first read of the books, but now that I'm in the fandom I feel really bad for the poor kid. I'm going to try to do right by him.  
> Finally, I hope you guys enjoy the description of the waffles here. I write about them so lovingly because I have had these exact waffles before and they were delicious. May not want to go into this chapter hungry haha! But enjoy!

** Day 16: The Prostitute and the Predator **

When Damen woke up the next morning, he was filled again with a tender sort of warmth, even though the weather outside promised a gray drizzle for most of the morning. Damen’s left arm was numb and, after his eyes cleared of their sleepy haze, he was able to see the cause of the numbness.

Today Laurent was not sleeping in the cup of Damen’s palm, but had inched upward to the crook of his left elbow. Damen’s large bicep had become his impromptu pillow and Damen’s forearm curled protectively over the crown of his head. Damen’s fingers had woven lightly through Laurent’s silky blond hair and he played with the strands mindlessly. Damen willed his hand to stop, but it seemed to have a mind of it’s own, burying deep to the scalp.

He twitched as Laurent moved, nestling deeper into his elbow, but he did not wake and instead made a noise deep in his chest, like the coo of a baby or the sound that a puppy made when you cradled it. Damen’s heart beat unevenly.

If only…

If only he could pull Laurent closer and kiss his forehead. Hold him close and keep him safe…Damen wanted desperately to hear that noise of comfort again.

Instead, he steeled his heart and began to slide his arm out without waking Laurent up. At about the wrist, Laurent shifted and his eyes opened just a crack. Damen froze as Laurent looked at him through sleep-hazy eyes. He still looked to be mostly asleep and Damen made a bold move.

He gently extricated his left arm and used it to clear some of the hair from Laurent’s eyes. “Sleep Laurent.” He murmured, “There’s still time to rest before breakfast.”

Laurent blinked owlishly before breaking out into a disarming bright smile that struck Damen squarely in the lungs. Closing his eyes again, Laurent dropped like a weight back into his pillows and closed his eyes obediently. Apparently he was still half-asleep but Damen was still having issues catching his breath as he wandered out to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast.

When Laurent emerged about a half an hour later to the smell of vegetable omelets frying in garlic butter, he seemed not to remember his broad, sweet grin from earlier even though Damen felt it burning hot as a brand on his heart and mind. Laurent could only manage a cool ‘thank you’ as Damen slid a crispy green onion omelet in front of him, the edges still bubbling.

“Your meeting is at five?” Laurent asked in nonchalance as Damen began to saw into his own sausage omelet.

“Yes. And I’ll be back no later than seven, I swear it.” Damen said, taking pains to sound calm. In truth, he was anxious to meet Nicaise and see what possible information had spilled through the cracks of the investigation. The intensity of what he might discover was almost too much to keep under wraps.

“I see.” Laurent said, also coolly disinterested.

“I…you are still more than welcome to join me,” Damen offered, anticipating a great many frosty gazes if Laurent was to accept and was faced with the venom of Nicaise, “I don’t mind either way.”

Laurent waved his hand dismissively as he took his first bite of egg. “And deprive Aktis of the pleasure of my company? I’m sure he would regret the loss. No…I’ll stay here and let you do this without discomfort,” (Knowing Nicaise, Damen almost guaranteed that this wouldn’t be the case), “don’t worry so much.”

But the two of them were distinctly off for the rest of the morning an early afternoon.

Though they went through the motions of their normal routines, Damen was thrumming with untapped energy and he saw all the familiar symptoms of Laurent being on edge: the massaging of his temples while he read and pacing slightly when there was nothing else to do.

In fact he looked very much like the human embodiment of a razor blade until Damen’s friends showed up around 4 P.M. Then, like a veil that lifted physically from him, he immediately assumed an expression of good humor that was as skillful as any veteran actor’s.

Aktis burst into the room like a whirlwind, followed closely by Pallas and Lydos, and he skidded to a halt in front of Laurent.

“Long time no see, sweet pea! Did you miss me?”

Damen rolled his eyes at their ridiculous nature. At least Laurent took it in stride and greeted them with apparent delight.

“Call me if things get out of hand.” Damen sighed to Pallas, arguably the most levelheaded of the three, as he began to collect his things. “So help me god, if he starts talking about my days before I was twenty-three, I assure you that all three of you will be cleaning toilets for as long as you work for me.”

“Duly noted,” Pallas said with the utmost understanding. “Don’t worry Damen. We’ll protect him with our very lives.”

“Thank you,” Damen sighed, clapping Pallas securely on the shoulder. “Laurent.” Laurent perked up from where his attention had been monopolized by Lydos and Aktis. He looked at Damen and there seemed like almost a flicker of desperation in the very depths of his dark eyes. Damen felt that brand on his heart throb. “I’ll be back soon. I swear it. No one is going to touch you. And when you order dinner…no salads.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Laurent replied, ignoring the salad comment, and it seemed to Damen it was more to assure himself that Damen would return, rather than a message of farewell.

Steeling himself, Damen waved goodbye and left the apartment.

He sprinted down the stairs before he could change his mind and caught sight of the new cameras that had been installed in the lobby. At least this gave him a surge of confidence and wicked happiness. One less way the monster could get an eye on Laurent while he was away.

As he flagged down a taxi, Damen pulled up the address Nicaise had sent him earlier in the day to show to the cab driver.

Upon further research, Damen found that he was not going to Nicaise’s apartment, but to an upscale, trendy brunch restaurant in the downtown area. As Damen read the menu and the prices, he sincerely hoped that Nicaise would not expect him to pay for the meal that they would enjoy. But then again, prostitutes were never one to turn down an opportunity to have someone else pay for their expenses.

Damen was a little early pulling up in front of the elegant, ivy-covered patio but as he made his way inside the cozy building, he saw a slim figure with wavy dark hair sitting at one of the rough-hewn wooden tables in a private corner. Damen took a deep breath and walked over to the table, wondering if it was Nicaise or he was about to make some young loner extremely confused.

“Nicaise?”

No…There was no mistaking those eyes.

Huge, aquamarine and ringed by thick, dark brown lashes, Nicaise’s eyes were even more bewitching in person and Damen stopped short as they fixed him with a look. In his peripheral he saw the Cheshire cat grin cut cool and wicked across Nicaise’s pouty pink mouth.

“Whoa…shit, the video chatting didn’t lie: you’re fucking _huge_.”

Damen got a good look at him.

He was lithe and slim, even thinner than Damen had initially realized. He looked incredibly breakable, like a child made of lily petals, like a young model in his simple clothes, but was possibly even lovelier in person. Expensive, twin sapphire studs glittered from his peachy earlobes. Damen shook his head to physically dissipate his muddle-minded daze and took the seat across from Nicaise.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m surprised. You’re early.”

“Being rude is not in my repertoire.” Nicaise lied with careless ease. “Here,” he pushed the large menu forward for Damen to look through.

Nicaise had already taken the liberty of ordering his own food and Damen noticed he was truly a child in the complete and utter sweetness of his chosen meal. Aside from a small bowl of mandarin, peach, and cherry slices, he was also presented with two thick, golden waffles drizzled in passion fruit cream cheese and orange syrup, topped with candied nuts and a liberal coating of powdered sugar. It was a breakfast Damen would have loved to make for Laurent, if Laurent had not hated things that were too sickly sweet. Maybe without some of the ingredients…

Feeling a little hungry himself thanks to Nicaise’s voracious appetite, Damen also ordered a tomato quiche, two thick turkey sausages, and the soup of the day: a thick, hearty butternut squash sprinkled with roasted pumpkin seeds.

The food made things a little less awkward as they could focus on eating, rather than the unusual circumstances that had brought them together.

“You’ll rot your teeth,” Damen said with a laugh as Nicaise asked for more sugar.

Nicaise stared at him, blue eyes unblinking, as he positively showered his waffles with a second and third coat of powdered sugar. “I’m sorry; I thought we were here to discuss what information I have on a persistent stalker, not to discuss my eating habits. I mean…it’s your money but time is ticking. Thirty minutes.”

“Eat a bit, then we’ll talk.”

Nicaise was more than pleased to accept these orders and cut into his stack of waffles. Damen’s food was delivered to him not long after and he had to struggle not to laugh in between bites as he saw Nicaise’s lips covered in white powder. He was still just a bratty kid, despite all his bravado. At least the brunch place lived up to its high reviews and Damen made a secret bookmark in his mind to bring Laurent here for brunch in the future.

“Ok,” Said Damen when Nicaise’s food had decreased sufficiently, “let’s get started.” His heart was beating painfully in his throat and Nicaise’s eyes suddenly took on a very hard and intense look. “Where should we start? Um…I guess at the beginning. Can I ask about your client?”

Nicaise set his utensils down and a very adult-like look of pain flashed briefly over his delicate features. “Fuck it…yeah, I guess we can. You paid for information after all…” He sounded very reluctant. “He’s just like all the others I guess. Old, rich…a liar. He…he told me he loved me…that he would give me money so that I didn’t have to work anymore. That day…when I went up to meet him he told me it was the last day.” Damen was riveted by all this information and Nicaise refused to look at him, instead looking out the window with a carefully guarded expression. “Told me it was the last day because…I’m too old. Ha ha!” He laughed without happiness and his teeth bared in a snarl. “ _Too old_. Isn’t that a load of fucking bullshit? Just turned fifteen and I’m…too old. Well…” Nicaise tried to save it. “I never _believed_ him of course but…those types are very persuasive.”

“I-I’m so sorry.” Damen said, more meaning that he was sorry to have dredged up such painful memories. It was clear that Nicaise had actually believed his client from that day and having his ‘dream’ cruelly dashed must have been a shattering blow. However Nicaise did not seem to take it that way.

His head whipped back to face Damen with a glare that glittered with malice and fury. “Don’t. You. _Dare_. You fucking cunt, with your inheritance and your cushy fucking life! Don’t you _dare_ even _pretend_ that you know what it’s like! Take your ‘sorry’ and go fuck yourself in the ass with it!”

Damen was so shocked by this outburst that it took him a moment to compose his thoughts.

It also took him a moment to realize that Nicaise had not seen fit to lower his voice during his angry outburst and now some of the other diners and servers were staring over at them in confusion and alarm. Damen apologized to them and turned to Nicaise.

“I don’t pity you, kid. I’m sorry if it came off sounding like that. My apology was meant for asking you such a personal question first. I am…erm, not used to having my questions answered so truthfully.”

“Probably because you’re so fucking annoying.” Nicaise hissed, crossing his thin arms defensively.

“Let’s try this again.” Damen said, taking a gulp of soup to steady his resolve. “Let’s pretend you’re filling out the police form. Walk me through the night.”

“The _entire_ night?” Nicaise said cruelly.

“Omit those details,” Damen responded in disgust, “And go from when you were leaving the building. It was that company building, correct?”

“Yes. So I’m leaving---annoyed that I’ll have to keep working, contrary to what I’ve been promised---and---.”

“Did you leave out of the front entrance or the parking garage or…?”

“Front entrance.” Nicaise responded, sounding annoyed at Damen’s interruption. “So as I’m leaving, I start looking for a cab but that late at night most of them are closer to the subway station. So I start walking towards the metro station and---.”

“You never had any knowledge beforehand that you were being stalked? No pictures? No messages?”

Nicaise slammed the base of his fork down onto the table with a loud bang by way of interruption. “Is this going to be a _thing_ with you? Interrupting me every five seconds with another question? If so I might want another thousand before we continue with this conversation…”

“Sorry, I’ll wait until the end.” Damen wanted to wring his fine neck.

“Thank you. To answer your question, no I didn’t receive anything that specific. When I worked, everything went through the rent shop and I used an alias to avoid these types of situations. _Anyways_ , there was just a van parked on the street---like a normal looking delivery van---and when I passed I got snatched.”

His story bore some striking similarities to Erasmus’ tale, though his was decidedly a less violent encounter. But the description he gave was the same: a large, bulky man, unseen, but reeking of violent potential. A small blessing, he had been assaulted but not raped.

“I was more angry I didn’t get paid.” Nicaise said in casual cruelty.

“You can’t mean that…” Damen whispered, thinking of the Erasmus’ stutter and Laurent’s red skin. Nicaise looked down to his waffles but it could not hide his expression over Damen’s assurances. “Ok…do you have any idea _why_ you were targeted?”

“Crimes like this are quite high in my previous line of work.” Nicaise murmured. “There’s always the fear of _when_ …”

But only Erasmus had been a rent boy as well, Damen thought. There was the variety in the ages and appearances---though all four were lovely, bordering androgynous; the only thing that connected them was Laurent’s family company. It _had_ to be that.

“What did you do after the police station sent you away?”

Nicaise ate a spoonful of just syrup and it set Damen’s teeth on edge. “I went back and reported it to the shop. They wouldn’t let me go out for the next week or so and by then the guy had already contacted the second victim. Then well…”

“Yes,” Damen hadn’t forgotten and leaned forward, “You got a wealthy person to get you out of there. Was it because they thought you were in danger?”

“If so, they weren’t stupid enough to say it.” Nicaise said in direct challenge. “No, I don’t think it was that. They didn’t care so much about the stalker. They were more interested in the client that I met that night. I think…I’m not sure but…I think at some point in the future they want to expose him.”

“And you’ll do it?”

Nicaise smiled and it was beautiful. “I’m being paid a ridiculous amount of money to wait around until that day comes. Of course I’ll do it.” He tactfully ignored the fact that this particular pervert had crushed a similar dream not a week before. Damen felt it imprudent to mention so he kept these thoughts to himself.

“Do you think…if your client found out about this…would you be in danger?”

Nicaise set his spoon down and it was the closest he had ever come to looking worried. “My…current patron says I would be in extreme danger but…I think he’s full of shit.” The nervous tone to his voice had Damen thinking otherwise. “Most powerful men just seem dangerous but…they’re so easy to play…”

Damen knew it was a long shot to ask outright for the client’s identity, so he tried to just get clues. “And you say he was persuasive? Is it because he’s a chairman there? Salesmen have that reputation.”

Nicaise must have been lost in thought. “Surprisingly no. Even more annoying, he’s a shrink.”

Damen gripped the table without realizing. For a foolish moment, he suspected Paschal, the only psychologist he knew, but then he got control of his own facilities and began to think. He _must_ have met another psychologist during his time with Laurent but he just…could not remember…

“Do you have any proof to show who this man is, aside from your testimony?”

Nicaise made nervous designs in the syrup with his knife. “Yeah…yeah I do. I had some of my friends from the shop make copies of his information from the rent logs before my shop could delete them. As…collateral…” Hell hath no fury like Nicaise scorned, Damen thought.

“Will you tell me…have you heard from your client since?”

Nicaise’s fine cheeks mottled despite his best efforts to hide his emotions. “Ah…no. But that’s probably because all communication was through the rent shop. I even moved my place of residence after my new patron insisted on it. I wouldn’t talk to him anyways, the bastard…”

“Don’t blame you.” Damen said through a bite of turkey sausage.

“Do _you_ think I’m in danger?” Nicaise asked without his normal derisive tone. “Be honest, I’m not afraid.”

“I…” Damen did not want to lie, but at the same time he was unsure. The more questions he asked, the more confused he became. It was a web of secrecy and boldness, violence and lust and Damen simply could not keep up with it. It was easier to get into a shooting match and then call it a day when one man lay dead on the ground. “I honestly don’t know but…if you ever feel unsafe, let me know and I can send one of my men over to stay with you.”

“From what I hear, your services are well outside of my price range.” Nicaise remarked with a mouthful of cherries that dyed his lips dark red. “I suppose I could pay for them with my ass but I’d be a bit worried about the size of them if they are similar to you.”

“ _Nicaise_.” Damen hissed as he stood up with unnecessary swiftness. He towered over the boy and Nicaise did not let fear grip his lovely features, though he did lean far back in his chair, as far from Damen’s furious face as he could get. “Please do not even _joke_ about this. If I found any one of the men in my employ t-touched you in that way…I would _kill_ him. Don’t…” Damen’s anger blew out swiftly, a flame extinguished, and he sat down, “you’re not a prostitute any more. Don’t…expect it from people.”

“No one gives kindness without expectation.” Nicaise snarled to mask his fear.

“Then tell me honestly. Tell me the truth: do you know an Erasmus? Do you know Aimeric?”

“No.” Nicaise spat. “But I assume based on the circumstances, they are the other victims.”

“Would you recognize the man who assaulted you in that van?”

“No! They all bleed together after a while! I didn’t see his face when he…” Nicaise shuddered slightly at the memory, “He called me a ‘whore’ and that I deserved it and that was it. If he brushed past me on the street I would not know his face.”

“Who is your sponsor?” Damen demanded.

The hailstorm of questions came in a volley that even Nicaise was ill prepared for. Nicaise wrung his hands with anxiety and frustration. “I don’t know his name! I don’t know…he’s some rich boy with a grudge and…he just…he just contacted me out of the blue. That asshole…maybe he wanted to keep anonymity to save his own skin.”

Damen wanted to groan. His time was almost up and he only had more puzzles to work out. Another question came to his mind.

“Why does your sponsor hate that man so much? Why does he want to personally expose him?” Damen felt that the person in question should be exposed regardless, but he was curious, thinking perhaps Nicaise’s sponsor was Auguste.

Nicaise raised one perfectly arched brown eyebrow, now back on familiar footing. His smile was positively acidic. “Why? A psychologist who has a taste for…boys like me? One can only wonder. Perhaps a disgruntled prior patient?”

Damen felt physically ill as the words truly sunk in.

The world spun in front of him, taking on an edge, and he began to wish he did not order such a heavy meal. It was a very real possibility that it was going to make a reappearance. Nicaise’s bell voice cut through his haze, bordering on glee at finally having completely unnerved Damen but carrying a sort of disappointment as well. “This is the kind of world you’ve ended up in, you honorable cunt. There is nothing good or sweet or kind here. Only wicked, powerful people indulging. You can’t save us. You can’t save any of us.”

Damen fought down the bile to glare at Nicaise. “You’re wrong Nicaise. I won’t let anyone touch him.”

Nicaise blinked at Damen’s statement and then he rolled his lovely eyes and shrugged as if he was arguing with a child. “If it makes you sleep any better at night, believe it. But our time is up. I am sorry you have no answers but…even whores are not all-knowing.” He stood from the table, no less thin or pale despite the food he had just consumed.

Damen was a bit unsteady on his feet as he followed to the cashier to pay for his meal.

Before Nicaise could fork over his own cash, Damen slapped his own credit card and tab down. Nicaise jumped and stared at him with those riveting aqua eyes. “One more question and I’ll pay for your meal.”

“Done.” Nicaise said immediately, pocketing his money.

Damen waited to ask his final question until he had safely walked Nicaise to a cab stand and they were standing in relative privacy. The city was just beginning to turn orangey-red from the setting sun and somehow the light suited Nicaise ill. He was a night-blooming flower, pale and poisonous.

“Your client…what did he look like?”

If he could not remember, possibly Damen could get a hold of the log of employees at the company. Maybe Auguste would know. Maybe he could research every last goddamn psychologist in the city until he found a description that matched.

Nicaise bit his cherry-stained bottom lip. “Umm…I would say he is in his mid to late forties. Lean. He has blond hair and a beard and dark blue eyes. That’s about all I can recall from his physical appearance…”

Damen was too busy copying every description to memory to really recall if he had met someone of that description. “No, no. Thank you Nicaise. You’ve been more than helpful…” Nicaise, not one for long goodbyes, shrugged and opened the back door to one of the taxis. Damen stopped him before he could close the door and spoke with a tone of utter sincerity. “Nicaise. If you ever feel like…someone is watching you, or may hurt you…even if, in the future, you have an overly persistent admirer…call me and I will help you. Ok?”

Nicaise snorted but then searched Damen’s expression for some veiled deception. When he could not seem to find anything, he blinked twice and then shut the door with a reluctant, “Whatever.”

Damen watched him go with a slight twinge of regret. The little brat reminded him of how Laurent might have been at that age…

But remembering Laurent brought him back to what was dearest in his heart.

With Laurent in mind, Damen got into the next cab in line and gave directions to Laurent’s apartment. His phone showed no messages so he assumed things were going smoothly and Pallas was keeping the entire battalion in order. But Damen still felt queasy.

As he gazed at the cityscape that blurred past, he thought of the new information he had been given. Nicaise was as terrified and shamed and confused as Erasmus had been, though he hid it better. But he could not provide Damen with any more information than he already knew.

But there may have been another eyewitness.

Damen thought of Nicaise’s ‘client’ and his description. Then he racked his brain trying to remember such a specific list of requirements. He felt like he was _so_ close to remembering but there was just too much information fighting for precedence in his mind.

They were almost back to Laurent’s apartment when it hit Damen like a thunderbolt.

“ _Pull over_!” He shouted with such intensity, that the taxi tires screamed in response as it swerved to the side of the road. Damen offered no explanation or apology as he lurched to the door closest to the curb and was sick on the street. He felt like he could not breathe as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the spit and snot and bile.

He shuddered to think of it, to connect all the horrible possibilities in his mind. But when he considered again, there could be no other alternative.

There was no other blond-haired, blue-eyed, middle-aged psychologist with the clout and money to buy Nicaise and service him---Damen threw up a little again---on the top floors of the company building. No, there could be no other.

The only other possible eyewitness was none other than Laurent’s uncle.

Damen heaved.

 

When he returned to Laurent’s apartment, Damen was struggling a little to keep his emotions in check. Even so, he could not help the smile of disbelief when he arrived to find the four of them circled around the glass-topped coffee table, engaged in an intense game of poker. His men were so engrossed, they did not even seem to notice his entry.

But Laurent looked up, and perhaps his friends had succeeded in tenderizing that personality, like bulls in a china shop, because Laurent smiled before he could catch himself and it looked heartbreakingly real. Damen felt the pain of an acid scrubbed throat and an empty stomach as he smiled back.

Once again Aktis, Pallas, and Lydos seemed reluctant to part from their new friend and Damen wished them goodbye, taking every ounce of his remaining sanity to appear happy as he waved them off with his heartfelt thanks.

The room seemed very quiet without their sunny presence.

As soon as he and Laurent were alone, Laurent let drop the guise of good humor, actually looking a little concerned as he searched Damen’s face.

“Damianos…did it not go well? What happened?”

Damen wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him. He wanted to ask Laurent if he knew this fact about his uncle, if he knew a psychologist in the city could have this kind of control over his young clients. Did Auguste know? Did Aleron know? _Did Laurent know_? All these questions seemed to be clawing viciously at his inner organs.

But Laurent disarmed him with another question and a careful sparkle of hope in his wide blue eyes.

“Damianos, did you…find out _anything_ about who…?”

He could not even bear to finish his sentence and Damen felt a sharp little chip of pain bury in his heart. A question for another time then…as much as it would eat at him…

Instead he ran his hands through his hair, as if pulling his hair would yank out his new source of stress. Honesty; honesty was the best policy, he told himself, regardless of how it might make Laurent feel about his own family. From what he remembered, Damen recalled Laurent regarding his uncle with a certain degree of scorn and disrespect.

“I didn’t find out who your stalker is,” Damen admitted and noticed Laurent put on a stoic face, though his shoulders slumped slightly, “but there might be another witness I can interview…”

“Who is it?” Laurent asked.

Damen shifted uncomfortably and forced himself to look at the spot right above Laurent’s eyes. “I think…it’s your uncle. He might be my last lead but…it’s what I was led to believe…”

Laurent’s eyes were very wide and his jaw was trembling it was clenched so hard. Perhaps…this revelation was not entirely unexpected, but Laurent nodded thoughtfully.

“Tomorrow…we should go…talk.”

Damen was surprised at this, but he kept calm. Things were moving very quickly but it was better in that the two of them were running out of time… The rest of the night he and Laurent did not speak much but Damen was still invited to join Laurent’s bed that evening. There were no further questions for the rest of the night from either Damen or Laurent.

But when the sleep paralysis returned in the middle of the night and Damen was forced to shake Laurent’s body awake to match his mind, their awkwardness was forgotten. Instead Laurent clung to Damen’s biceps, shaking like a leaf, while Damen soothingly patted him on the back until the two of them fell back to sleep, gripping each other desperately.


	18. Day 17: The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna go ahead and call possible TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter...just in case you guys can guess anything insidious. And also it's always a safe call whenever the worst character (possibly in literary history) shows up. To be honest, Damen might be out of his league in this chapter...  
> Now I think you guys will get a vague idea of why Laurent hates sweet things. God, it's depressing to think about now that I've written about it.  
> Also, non-related to this chapter in particular, I've finally got with the times and created a tumblr so I will update there, like many other authors do, when I've posted a new chapter or story. It's on my profile and is the same as my AO3 name so check it out! (Or don't, it's up to you haha!) Enjoy!

** Day 17: The Darkness **

Laurent did not see fit to call and make an appointment with his uncle, despite the fact that he and Damen would be visiting the private offices on an early Sunday afternoon. Laurent had a grim sort of set to his expression and a burning intensity set deep in his eyes. He brushed away some of Damen’s concerns over a light breakfast of yogurt smoothies.

“Trust me when I say, it will be better if we show up unannounced. It won’t give him time to prepare for what we might ask. He’ll be there today, _I know it_.”

“But it’s a Sunday.” Damen said in confusion. “Most doctors offices close shop today, right?”

“Not him. We’re going today.”

“ _We_?” Damen asked in surprise; it appeared solely from Laurent’s tone and body language that he did not relish the company of his uncle any more than one would delight in a cockroach in their soup. “You’re coming with me for this?”

Laurent’s dark eyes flicked up from where he was eating. His expression was nothing short of intense.

“My uncle…he’s a psychologist, as I’ve told you.” Damen recalled his similar feeling of dread in the elevator, how the man made the entire place run cold. “He…is very persuasive. He gets inside your mind, I should know…If you tell him _anything_ about yourself then he…”

Damen recalled then that Laurent had been to his uncle for therapy.

For a moment, he was struck with an irrational fear, a fear he dismissed quickly as impossible. There was no way such a thing could happen…Of course he took Laurent’s advice to heart. If anyone knew the deductive capabilities of the man he was about to meet, it would be someone as bright as Laurent.

“He?” Damen drank his own smoothie, avocado and peach, as he begged for more information. If this man was truly as fearsome as Laurent was insisting, then Damen wanted to be well prepared.

“He’s going to take what you say and use it against you.” Laurent said, his expression dark and dangerous. “Don’t tell him _anything_. Not your name, not your family, not even your favorite goddamn color! He’s…” Laurent looked down into his breakfast. “I know him…he’s going to tell you lies about me. I _know_ it. I… _know_ him.”

“Laurent.” Damen replied with such conviction that Laurent looked up. “I won’t believe him. I know _you_. I know…better than to believe lies about you.”

“You…” Laurent could not find the words and sipped his drink. “Be careful. He’s…you’ll have to be on your guard. He gets into the mind. Before long, if you’re not careful…you can’t help yourself and you’ll begin to believe every word he says…”

“Did you?” Damen asked before he could stop himself.

Laurent was usually very much in control of his emotions but even he was unprepared for such an intensely personal question and he nearly upset his glass when he bumped against it. He refused to look Damen in the eye but Damen did not begrudge him that.

“No.” He said finally and there was a defiant tilt to his chin. “Not anymore.”

There were a few more painful moments of silence until Damen felt safe to hazard another question.

“Did you know---?” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t ask Laurent about Nicaise and any number of other horrible possibilities that had jumped to his mind. He couldn’t burden Laurent with that. The question died on his lips.

“Did I know what?”

“Nothing.” Damen said with a smile he knew was sad, “It’s just…if he’s as terrible as you say he is…I’m glad he’s no longer your psychologist.”

“As am I.”

There was a general air of nervousness and bated breath about the apartment for a good part of the morning and it was a feeling not even a shower and a fresh set of clothes could dissipate. Laurent was carefully biting his right thumbnail from where he sat on the couch, waiting for Damen to appear; the moment he caught sight of Damen emerging, he took extra care to make his expression cool and unreadable. Damen smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

“Are you ready, Laurent?”

“No. I’m not the one who will be doing all the talking. Are _you_ ready?”

“Well,” Damen held the door open for Laurent, “if worse comes to worse, I can always slam his head into the desk and run.” The spell was broken and Laurent stopped halfway through the threshold so that he could he could bend double and laugh.

Perhaps it was the nervousness, but at least Laurent could find humor in the thought.

 

Laurent’s uncle had a practice that took up the entire top floor of one of the posh buildings about a ten-minute cab ride from Laurent’s apartment. It had none of the lovely manicured gardens of Paschal’s office and, indeed, Damen felt as though he was about to enter a government building or some kind of archives where the corridors were labyrinthine and it was always just a little too cold inside.

Laurent eyed the building with undisguised dislike, but he steeled himself and the two of them walked in the door together.

It was immediately evident how Paschal was much better at creating a mood of ease and relaxation than Laurent’s uncle was, just based on the décor of the office.

Although the receptionist was off work on the weekend, there was some impersonality with the secretary’s desk cordoned off behind a small window. The light in the waiting room was just a little too low, it was a little too warm, and the leather chairs promised to be firm and uncomfortable as the leather was stretched tight to the breaking point. Damen could see why Laurent was not at ease in this place.

“Do you think he’s out to lunch?” Damen whispered, without knowing why he did so. For some reason he felt as though he might be kicked out for speaking too loudly.

“Absolutely not.” Laurent said in his regular speaking voice.

Damen had to refrain from shushing him.

“No during this time he either has his longer appointments or…” Laurent trailed off as they entered the main waiting room. There was a heavy-looking, dark door that obviously separated the waiting room from the main office. It was…eerily quiet, but Damen chalked it up to being a Sunday. Perhaps it was livelier on the weekdays…but he doubted it.

Laurent smoothly sat on one of the leather chairs and was doing his best to look unaffected. Damen had no idea what to do next.

“Go in then.” Laurent said, crossing his long legs. “I’ll be waiting right here. And I won’t let anyone touch you.” Apparently his anxiety gave him a sense of humor when he was not the one to have to venture into the viper pit.

“Now you’re stealing my lines?” Damen asked, the smile creeping back.

“Hurry up so we can get out of here.” Laurent responded. “This place still gives me the creeps…”

Despite how very rude and informal it all seemed, Damen gathered up his courage and went over to the office door and knocked. His breath caught in his throat, as it seemed to echo in the silence. He stood without change for a good solid thirty seconds before he knocked again.

This time the door clicked---Damen felt it was odd that the door locked from the inside---and it opened.

Laurent’s uncle looked up, something a lot like surprise flickering across his face before he could control himself. It was not every day, Damen thought, that someone so enormous entered this room. However, this man was a professional and a moment later his surprise was replaced by a cordial smile, as if he had been expecting Damen all along.

“Ah! I remember you. You’re my nephew’s bodyguard. Young Charls, was it?”

“Oh! Erm…yes, Charls. I am Charls. That’s me… _Charls_.”

Damen was saying it more his benefit than to try and convince the man in front of him. He had completely forgotten that the day he met he had been masquerading as Charls. He preyed to god that no one called his real name or he might actually react to it and blow his cover.

“And to what do I owe this visit. Ah, I see you’ve brought my recalcitrant nephew with you. Hello Laurent.”

“Uncle.” Laurent responded in a clipped tone.

Damen angled himself slightly so he took up the entire doorway and Laurent was blocked from view. “I apologize for showing up so abruptly. I would have sent you an email or give a phone call but…what I want to discuss with you is of a very sensitive nature and I wanted to talk with you about it immediately.”

There was no change in his expression but Damen was suddenly overcome with a chill, despite the heat of the room. He realized it was not coming from the vents but from the man standing in front of him. Cold unfriendliness rolled off of him in waves, although he was still smiling.

“I see.” He tugged gently at his beard as he thought and there was a hint of sarcasm to his next phrase. “…Thank you for considering my position. Perhaps we should go in my office and speak. Laurent. If you would like to join us…”

Laurent was silent by way of response.

“I apologize for his rudeness.” Laurent’s uncle explained as Damen followed him alone into the office. “It’s astonishing how people can change. You should have met him a few years ago. He was a little more pliant and obedient.”

“I quite like him the way he is now.” Damen admitted a bit indignantly. Laurent was a hellcat…but he liked him fiery.

“I see.” His uncle sounded on the verge of laughter.

Regarding the office, Damen immediately felt claustrophobic. If possible it was even hotter inside than it was in the waiting room and Damen wished he could remove his outer shirt. The windows were small and let in very little natural light so most of the light came from lamps around the room. The furniture was dark, the walls were dark and the heavy bookcases and the enormous reclining sofa made the room seem smaller than it actually was. Damen honestly did not know how any person could find solace in such a place, especially comparing it to the open airiness of Paschal’s office.

He was offered a seat in the antique wooden chair sat opposite the large desk in the middle of the room and he was quite afraid, thanks to the creaking, that he might break it. It was there he noticed the only comforting part of the room.

On the desk, there was a deep crystal bowl filled with candy.

“For your patients?” Damen asked, inclining his head towards the bowl. Laurent’s uncle sat down across from him, making a few clicks on his computer before looking to the bowl.

“Ah…yes, in a way. Many parents come to me in fear that their child is eating their emotions and will become overweight. I have method that solves it.” He appeared to not want to discuss the method in detail and instead folded his hands on his desk. “But enough about that. Does your family mind that you take such a dangerous job?” He had a very soft, persuasive voice that seemed to suit the atmosphere.

“No, no. They’re very understanding.” Damen said. “Especially since they…have a similar profession.”

“I see.”

Before he could ask any further questions, Damen smoothly interrupted. “I came here to talk to you today about…about the stalker in your brother’s company.”

“Ah, my _other_ nephew,” said Laurent’s uncle, running his hands impatiently through his dark golden hair, “can find interest in no other subject these days. Though if you are also here to question my alibi during said crimes, I’m sure he is more equipped to show you the security footage.”

“Auguste?” Damen asked. He was more concerned that apparently he was not the first to interview their uncle about the matter.

“Yes. After the entire incident I actually offered to supply Laurent with a guard from my own funds but…those brothers are quite stubborn and you were chosen instead.”

“Ah, no umm…” Damen was thrown off by this revelation and the chair was uncomfortable. “I came to talk about the first victim…the young rent boy?” He waited to gauge a reaction but there was no perceivable change in posture or expression.

“Oh? What about him?” His voice was light, pleasant.

“I met with him the other day.” Damen said, keeping eye contact. “I’ve been trying to find patterns in the attacks so that I can avoid _anyone_ doing the same to Laurent and so I’ve interviewed…some people. One of them was that first victim and he told me that there was another possible eyewitness. It was made abundantly clear that…it was…you.”

“Are you accusing me of something, Charls?” The pleasant tone of his voice only served to make him sound more dangerous, like a jaguar that purred as it bared its’ teeth.

Damen felt his own eyes narrow.

Accuse? In his mind, the man in front of him was already sworn, tried, and proclaimed guilty of hiring fifteen year old Nicaise to do unspeakable things. But expressing that thought was not conducive to getting information, so Damen kept his opinions inside.

“Accusing you? No, I’m not here to do so. I just want to know about that night so I…” He didn’t know if this was too much information but he had built up a head of steam and it was too late to stop now, “So I can keep anyone from hurting Laurent. So, that is why I came here today: to ask you what you saw that night.”

“Do have any proof to support these outlandish claims?” Blue eyes flashed in warning.

“I don’t.” Damen said. “But the boy did.”

There was the crack.

A slight clench in the jaw, a glance down to regain composure and the knuckles were just a little too white to be considered relaxed. It was almost imperceptible and it was gone as soon as it had come, replaced with that calm expression that looked very similar to Laurent’s.

“Did he now?” His smile was very professional, almost indulgent as if he were talking to one of his young patients, “Unfortunately, Charls as I only have the proof of your word to depend upon, I am not at liberty to discuss that particular night. Although I assure you, I do have an alibi.”

Damen had half-expected this response though the bitterness of denial still stung his throat.

“I’d be very interested to hear it…”

“However, I am glad you decided to drop by. I have been meaning to ask you some things since we met the night of the company party. I assume my nephew has put you through hell since then,” when Damen opened his mouth to protest, Laurent’s uncle interrupted with ease, “No, no. You and I of all people know how difficult it can be a younger brother. The stubbornness is innate.”

“I find Laurent a fine companion.” Damen replied feeling a little mad without knowing why.

“Why is that?” Laurent’s uncle leaned forward, obviously interested.

“He’s very intelligent.” Damen said diplomatically. “And despite all the stress of this situation he has made sure to not let it affect our working relationship. He…” Damen wanted to say more. How when he laughed it was so unexpected that he had to stop what he was doing until the humor subsided. How he studied law at every waking moment so that he could achieve his goals quickly. His ability to eat and read and answer Damen’s questions at the same time. The way he made small mewling noises in the early morning…he was so very… _good_.

A telling expression must have taken hold of his features because Laurent’s uncle looked calmly surprised. “You appear to have quite the adoration of my nephew,” Damen felt himself break into a cold sweat and he swore the man across from him knew it, “I can only hope that you both do keep the relationship… _professional_.” Damen felt his cheeks flare in anger and embarrassment.

“O-Of course I---.”

“Of course you do.” Laurent’s uncle interrupted again. “I am pleased to see you have a good relationship with him. It pains me to admit that the two of us do not have the best relationship as of now.”

That was abundantly clear. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.” Damen said unconvincingly.

Laurent’s uncle waved his hand dismissively. “He came to me for therapy when he was quite young. Of course Auguste had protests as we are family, but I did it as a favor to my older brother. Boys that young are very volatile so we did not part on the best of terms. I understand he has found a new therapist. Does my nephew force you to sit in on their sessions?”

“No.” Damen said.

“Of course he is quite secretive. And you’ve heard nothing from his doctor as well?”

Damen was not a good liar under these conditions. He hoped the lie did not show on his face. “No I’m afraid those visits are rather impersonal. If Laurent wishes to tell me anything he can…do it himself.”

Another wry smile. “And how long do you plan to stay by my nephew’s side?”

“Until the man is caught.” Damen insisted. “I refuse to leave a job half-finished. And I don’t trust anyone else to take my place. No…I am here for the long haul.” He was so impassioned that he was struggling to remember not to reveal too much of himself. This man seemed to just know the topics he was interested in and passionate about. Basically any talk of Laurent was enough…

Laurent’s uncle actually looked a little disappointed. “I see…that is quite a shame. You recall my bodyguard from the night of the party? He intends to quit within the week and I was in need of a replacement.”

Damen was instantly on edge. “I…I see.”

“I had hoped…upon hearing your efficiency that I might convince you to work for me in his stead. Of course, I will match Auguste’s price and locate an acceptable replacement to guard my nephew. Your thoughts on this arrangement?”

Damen wanted to be sick. If this man in front of him truly bought from that rent shop or---god forbid---assaulted his patients then Damen wanted no part of this proposal.

“I’m sorry.” He said, standing smoothly. Laurent’s uncle looked surprised; perhaps he was more used to deciding when the conversation was over. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. But I must assure you…I am a man of honor. I intend to stay by your nephew’s side until this matter is finished. Once he is safe… _then_ we can discuss the matter of employment.”

Already in his heart Damen had already turned him down along with a scathing argument on exactly how he felt about this man’s tastes. By that time he would have regained control of his company and he would send out an official mandate that anyone who guarded this predator would find himself out of a job and blacklisted in every company they were affiliated with. He owed Nicaise and any unknown others that much.

Despite Damen’s firm dismissal of his offer, Laurent’s uncle still looked nothing but cordial. “I understand. It is a shame someone as ungrateful as my nephew has command of someone with so fine a work ethic.”

He extended his hand for a handshake and Damen used a little more force than was necessary. He felt his smile was more like a snarl. “Not at all. Laurent is…delightful. I have no complaints.” He would protect his client, even from slander.

His uncle’s dark blue eyes flashed again although he smiled.

Damen was all to ready to leave this claustrophobic room and take Laurent home. Laurent’s uncle was ‘kind’ enough to see him to the door.

“I am sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”

He did not sound very sorry and Damen ached to flip him off. Instead, he gave his most winning smile. “It’s ok. I can always come back. I know where to find you.” _And what you like_. He hoped the threat was easily detected and Laurent’s uncle did not reply to him.

As they exited the office Damen was very much looking forward to Laurent’s company, feeling as though something had been drained out of him. However, the sight that greeted him was enough to rouse him into an anger that he had only felt once before. It felt like lava was boiling deep in his chest and in the pit of his stomach.

Laurent was still sitting in the chair Damen had left him in and, for all intents and purposes, he looked perfectly at ease. His body was arranged in a posture of relaxation and there was a small smile on his lips. But Damen knew better. He could see the subtle signs of discomfort, as his Uncle’s brutish bodyguard loomed over him, just an inch or two too close.

He spoke to Laurent in a hushed, familiar manner so that Damen could not make out what he was saying. But he did notice that the guard---he had quite forgotten the man’s name---position himself so that he was ever closer to Laurent with each passing comment. Laurent could not stand without being chest to chest and anxiety thrummed from his ‘relaxed’ form.

The two of them looked over when Damen and Laurent’s uncle appeared, though the man cornering Laurent made no attempt to step back and even smiled at Damen. This enraged Damen even further.

In one easy stride, he crossed over to where Laurent was sitting and clapped the man on the shoulder in a show of camaraderie, though it physically moved him out of Laurent’s way. As soon as he was pushed aside Damen kept him away so Laurent could stand. “It’s been some time since we’ve last met, but I’m embarrassed to say I’ve forgotten your name. You’ll have to forgive me that.”

The guard looked considerably less cordial and smug at Damen’s interruption. “My name is Gov---.”

“Laurent!” Damen said, releasing his uncle’s guard he remembered was Govart, “Are you ready to go?”

Laurent unfolded himself with a sort of languid ease, as if he had not been cornered and anxious only moments before. Govart did not even attempt to hide that he was staring and Laurent’s uncle took the whole infuriating scene in with thinly veiled amusement. Damen personally thought he needed to get that untrained dog of his under control.

“Yes,” Laurent placed a cold palm on the center of Damen’s back, enough to calm him considerably, “Let’s go.”

Govart gritted his teeth and sidestepped Damen’s grip and went to go grab the bags he had left on the secretary’s desk. “Boss, I brought lunch.”

“Thank you, Govart, you can leave them on my desk.” Laurent’s uncle was leaning carelessly against the doorframe and was carefully gauging Laurent and Damen’s reactions. Like a slide of ice, Damen felt the hand leave his back; they had revealed too much. “I assume the two of you know the way out. I would escort you myself but I have work to do.”

Damen and Laurent both nodded by way of response.

With his own hand, Damen pushed Laurent in front of him so that no one could watch his unprotected back as he walked away. They were halfway out of the waiting room when that syrupy insidious voice stopped them both.

“Oh and Laurent. This is for you, nephew.”

There was a whistle of something thrown and Damen caught it without even looking behind him. It was something covered in plastic and Damen opened his palm for Laurent to inspect whatever had been tossed at him.

Laurent’s face was very white as he saw the small piece of candy perched on Damen’s open hand.

 

“Damianos?”

It was dark in Laurent’s room that night. Damen had been staring at the ceiling remembering just how drained he felt after meeting Laurent’s uncle that afternoon. Aside from the fact that the man was a predator, he also gave Damen the creeps. He remembered everything he had told the man and wondered how it might be used against him. He had been studying the ceiling in hopes that perhaps it would give him some answers when Laurent’s voice yanked him out of his daze.

“What is it Laurent?”

“Did my uncle…” any discussion of Laurent’s uncle or Govart had been skillfully avoided for the entirety of the evening but under the cover of darkness, Laurent was a little bolder, “did he…say anything about me?”

Damen chuckled, which was probably not the reaction Laurent was expecting, and rolled on his side so that he could face Laurent. “Yeah, he did but…” Laurent tensed up, “but it was all the things I expected him to say. That you’re stubborn and you have an attitude like a panther with a headache and you don’t appreciate me; I’m inclined to agree with the last one.” Laurent responded by punching Damen in the shoulder.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Damen laughed. “He told me…he wanted to hire me when Govart quits. That he would find you a…new bodyguard as a replacement. And he would pay for it out of pocket. I… I turned him down of course.”

Laurent was quiet for a long moment. “My uncle…he never grants favors. He never gives anything for free…” He sounded so much like Nicaise in that moment, so cynical. “He offered it to me earlier and I told him to…to go fuck himself.”

“How diplomatic of you.” Damen responded trying hard not to laugh. “I’m glad you turned him down though. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but…I find your uncle to be more distasteful than your brother.”

“I’m sure Auguste will blush when you confess.” Laurent responded.

“I’ll do no such thing!”

They were quiet for a moment when Damen thought of another question, anger and annoyance bubbling from that deep fiery well he usually tried to keep under control. “What did Govart talk about with you? I’m sorry about that by the way…if I had known he was there I would have ended my meeting faster.”

“Just small talk. I wasn’t paying attention to half of what he said,” Laurent replied. “Speaking of the meeting, did you…find out anything useful?”

Damen felt a little guilty that he kept giving Laurent snatches of hope and then had to withdraw them. “He wouldn’t tell me anything but I know he’s lying. I know it.” Laurent sighed as if he had expected this response. “It seems so strange that… that he’s your uncle and he’s so uncooperative. That he won’t…”

“He won’t help me.” Laurent’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Is he why you won’t eat sweets?” Damen asked, moving a little closer to Laurent so that he could hear better. Laurent shifted as well but Damen could not tell whether it was closer or further away.

Laurent had thrown the candy into the gutter the moment they stepped outside, but it took much longer for the color to return to his face. He did not say anything but his silence spoke volumes; Damen wondered what kind of treatment his uncle had employed to cultivate such a severe distaste of sweets. When Laurent did not respond, Damen dropped the subject.

However, he did see a flash of blond as Laurent shifted and his hair fell in a glossy curtain. Instinctively, Damen reached out a hand and moved the strands back into place behind Laurent’s ear. He had studied Laurent’s hair, enjoyed watching it so often that he knew which way it would fall over his brow. His fingertips brushed the marble-cool skin of Laurent’s forehead and he, surprisingly, did not flinch away from the contact.

“Don’t worry. No matter what has happened in the past, no one will touch you. Not while I’m here.”

Damen dropped his hand and he _did_ flinch as cool fingers swiped lightly crossed his forehead in return, sweeping dark curls aside. “Yes…I know.”


	19. Day 18: The Rage Against the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again definite TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter!  
> The title of this chapter comes from the poem from 'Interstellar': "Rage, Rage against the dying of the Light", but this is more insidious.  
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and read up until this point and waited until the axe drops. Hahaha I love you all and I hope this chapter was as...intense to read as it was to write.  
> Happier times in the future, I swear!  
> Enjoy ;)

** Day 18: The Rage Against the Light **

When Damen awoke the next morning Laurent was sleeping the crease of his elbow again but this time his hands were curled up on Damen’s wrist making no easy way to extricate his arm, and his back was facing Damen. In a way it was more touching in that Laurent trusted him enough to sleep without facing him. Damen certainly wasn’t complaining.

It meant he got to wake up to the sight of Laurent’s lovely, pale nape just a breath in front of his face. He could see the way Laurent’s bones threatened to push through his skin, the way the gold of his hair fell across the sides of his neck, the curve of his torso where his chest met his waist. If they had been lovers, Damen would have leaned forward and planted kisses up and down those jutting bones, on the exposed shoulder where the shirt was slipping down, and then up under the earlobes when he had cleared the blond hair out of the way.

But they were not lovers.

So instead Damen used his free hand to physically lift Laurent’s upper body and withdraw his arm from underneath. Laurent did not stir until Damen put him back down on the sheets. His brow furrowed and his sort of nuzzled into them.

“Mno…” Laurent gurgled gripping the sheets.

Damen smiled and leaned down as close to Laurent’s ear as he dared. “You can sleep a little longer, ok?” It seemed to do the trick, as Laurent quit fidgeting but the slight frown remained.

Recalling his brunch with Nicaise the other afternoon, Damen baked a quiche for breakfast, using the sun-dried tomatoes, olives and feta he had left over in the fridge. Laurent actually complimented it when he woke up and made it out to the kitchen, his hair still a little mussed in the back.

The idea of routine and going to class was a welcome prospect in comparison to what had been, honestly, a very stressful weekend.

Final exams were going to happen in exactly one month, Laurent’s professors reminded during their lectures, and Damen was extremely pleased that he didn’t have to worry about college exams any more. He doubted Laurent worried about them either, as he had never gotten anything less that a 95 on his tests, much to chagrin and awe of his less studious classmates.

As a concession to Damen, who was often bored out of his mind, Laurent sat close to the window so that Damen could look out and watch the wind move the blossoms in the trees or watch the students lucky enough not to be in class wander about the campus. It was one of those perfect days in which he wished Laurent were less strict about his attendance. Surely it would have been preferable to read while sitting on the grass under the shade of one of those cherry trees…

The warmth of the sun and the inactivity was a little too much for Damen and he found himself dozing lightly to the dulcet drone of the professors’ lecture.

When he woke up at the end of class, Laurent was staring at him and looked to be on the verge of laughter.

“What is it?” Damen asked, his voice still a bit thick with sleep.

“You’re like my grandpa was.” Laurent snickered gathering up his things. “Sleeping in the sun with your mouth half open. That’s how he spent most of his afternoons.”

“If I’m like your grandfather, I’m amazed that you’re so short.” Damen responded and was thanked by Laurent kicking his chair. “At least I don’t snore like you do, thank god, or I’d have to go apologize to your professor. He’s frightening, even to me…”

“I do not snore!” Laurent argued, his cheeks flushing red.

“Like a buzz saw,” Damen laughed and Laurent swung his bag against Damen’s side.

The two of them exited the classroom in good spirits over the good weather and prospect of what to eat for lunch, when Damen’s phone began to buzz with a phone call. Laurent looked over in concern as Damen withdrew it from his pocket, looked at the caller ID and gave a deep, suffering sigh.

“What is it?”

“Your brother.” Damen admitted, showing Laurent the word ‘Asshole’ as it was emblazoned across the screen. “And the day held such promise…Should I ignore it?”

Laurent actually looked a little nervous. “What if it’s about your contract…?”

Damen shrugged, trying to dissipate the concern. “Even if he cancels it or doesn’t extend it, I’m still staying with you. He’s gonna have to drag me out of that apartment and…comparing the two of us, he isn’t going to drag me very far. Here, let’s go in and talk to him.” Damen motioned to an empty classroom so that they could go in and take the call together on speakerphone.

When Laurent shut the door behind them, Damen answered and pressed the speakerphone button.

“What do you want, Auguste?”

“ _Fuck you_ _Damianos_!” Auguste’s unpleasant voice echoed through the empty classroom and Laurent had to bite back a smile at hearing his brother so annoyed. “I thought we agreed that when we had to call each other, it was for fucking emergencies! Don’t wait just to piss me off!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Damen said without feeling or sounding sorry. “What’s wrong? Laurent’s safe with me.”

“It’s not Laurent.” Auguste actually sounded quite upset and Damen felt a bit of a chill. “You read the police file, yeah? The second victim Aimeric…”

“What about him?” Damen asked, his joking tone gone. Laurent was just staring at the phone with his naturally wide eyes. Aimeric was the only victim he had not been able to interview personally as he was attending university more than two hours away. It was an effective method to avoid questioning and being in the same city as his stalker.

“Today his roommate found him,” Laurent and Damen met eyes in a panic, “he…he tried to commit suicide by…by cutting his…Luckily they got him help in time and he’s in the hospital now on watch. I wanted to tell you before…before you or Laurent heard it from…from anyone else.” Before the stalker told them, Damen thought. Laurent was white-knuckled, gripping the desk.

“Please Auguste,” Damen said, “Please tell me you’re getting close to catching this asshole.”

Auguste was quiet and Damen could practically feel his frustration. “I’m…I’m _working_ on it! You better keep my brother safe in the meantime.”

Damen’s emotions found an outlet in his annoyance with Auguste. “You don’t need to tell me that!”

“When you tell him…” Auguste sounded truly exhausted still oblivious that Laurent was listening in on the conversation, “when you tell him about Aimeric make sure you tell Laurent that none of this is his fault. Ok? _None of this is his fault_.” Damen didn’t see how it could be Laurent’s fault but whatever it took to get rid of Auguste quickly, he would say.

“I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him.” Damen assured.

“I’ll call you again with more information when I have it.” Auguste replied as soon as he had extracted those promises. “I’ve sent one of my men to go look into Aimeric’s accounts to see if there was a catalyst to this. I’m going to finish this Damianos…I swear.” And then Auguste hung up with a firm click.

There was a moment of heavy silence, when Damen could not bear to look up and gauge Laurent’s reaction to this horrible news. At least they had been able to save Aimeric in time…

Laurent was staring out the window in silence, his expression unreadable and Damen thought that maybe it was a good thing to assure Laurent that none of this was his fault.

“Laurent, this---.”

“I want to go home.” Laurent said, swiftly standing as he interrupted, refusing to meet Damen’s gaze. This was not a good sign.

“It’s not---.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Laurent hissed from clenched teeth. “I just…” he rubbed his palms hard into his eye sockets, “I want to go home. Take me home, Damianos. Please…”

The plea was so heartfelt and heartbreaking that Damen could not bear to refuse. It was rare that Laurent pleaded for anything so Damen was going to give him whatever he asked for. He let the subject drop and longed to embrace Laurent, to physically protect him from this.

Instead, he only managed to pat the base of Laurent’s skull, where his head met his neck. “Let’s go home then…”

As they were leaving, Damen felt his phone buzz again, but this time it was only a text message. However, it was from Auguste and the opening line was: ‘ _Don’t tell Laurent, but…_ ’ Carefully, he allowed Laurent to walk in front of him so that he could read it without fear of Laurent seeing.

‘ _Don’t tell Laurent, but my loyal man Jord has just finished the sweep of Aimeric’s things and he found an email from an unknown source whom I assume is the stalker. I’m going to have my men look into it but don’t you dare let my brother see it. Don’t you dare leave him alone._ ’ Attached was a photo of said email and Damen felt a swirl of sickness in the pit of his gut when he saw it.

The sender was probably just a throwaway account, filled with random letters and numbers, and the subject line was ‘ _Remember me_?’ Underneath was simply one line and an attached photo, enough to drive a young man to try and commit suicide.

The email simply read, ‘ _Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll hunt you down and finish the job._ ’ The photo was grainy and hard to make out at first, until Damen realized it was security footage from a poorly lit room, Aimeric slumped over on the floor after what had probably been the most hellish experience of his life. Damen felt physically ill at the sight and longed to hurl his phone far away from him; he would not show this to Laurent. He could not.

But now he was concerned for another reason. What was it Aimeric knew that the stalker wanted him to keep secret? What information could Aimeric have as leverage against this monster?

 

They were silent most of the walk back but Laurent’s mind was elsewhere. Occasionally he looked up to the sky or down at the ground in silent contemplation but he never let Damen know what was going through that mind of his. Damen only hazarded a question once.

“Are you and Aimeric close?”

Laurent shrugged softly. “We…knew of each other. And we’re kind of similar in a way. We both…” He shook his head, “Neither one of us exactly fits the mold our fathers expect of us. I talked to him occasionally when we would meet at company functions. We weren’t close but…when the time comes, I would ask him for help.”

“I…Thank god they rescued him in time.” Was all Damen could think to say and their conversation faded into nothingness. As they walked up to Laurent’s door, this time Laurent was more than willing to let Damen go first.

He heard Laurent gasp.

One of the large picture windows had been shattered. Fragmented chunks of glass were strewn across the floor and a breeze whistled through the apartment. Aside from that, nothing else had been broken or moved, but small squares---obviously photographs---had been thrown around the room over every surface: on the couch, over the tables, on bookcases and all over the floor. This was not the careful torture of photos carefully placed where Laurent slept; this was haphazard, angry, and frustrated, the carelessness of it all showcasing those emotions.

Damen kept Laurent behind him as they moved slowly, so slowly inside the desecrated apartment. Then he _heard_ it.

“Are you filming me?”

Damen felt his stomach drop out of his body. This could not be real; he knew that voice, deep and husky and filled with laughter. He knew it and had never wanted to hear that voice again. It was coming from the direction of the television.

“I can’t help it,” He heard his own voice, played back mockingly over stereo and his vision blurred, “You’re so beautiful. I just want to save this moment…You’re so beautiful…” He was vaguely aware of Laurent beside him, gripping his arm as if trying to anchor him in reality.

Her laughter was musical and he could see it in his mind’s eye: she would flip her wavy hair over one bare shoulder in a waterfall of gold and expose her lovely profile and her bare back and waist. The smile was enough to enchant. “You need not film me. You can look at me like this every day. Every moment…” And then her soft giggle as the camera tilted.

There was the sound of Damen kissing her back in reverence over her beauty and his own love for her, there was the sound of her sighs of delight as his lips traced her bare spine and Damen vaguely felt a tear or two running hot down his cheek. The pain was unbearable in his chest. “ _No_ …” He heard himself choke, knowing what was coming next.

He heard his own laugh, happy and contented, and knew that this torture was meant for him, and only him.

“I love you Damianos.” She said with a laugh. “Now stop filming and kiss me.”

The image spun as the phone was obviously tossed to the side. But the way it landed could not obscure completely Damen’s dark hand weaving into her hair, her own arms stretching up to lace around his neck, and the sound of their happiness focused into the sound of light, loving kisses. Damen had to look down to tear his eyes away and his eyelashes were wet as they hit his cheeks.

He thought he had deleted this video ages ago.

The pain it caused him whenever he watched it had forced his hand and he had deleted it months ago, along with all the others. And yet here it was, back to haunt him and tear out his heart. More shameful tears slid out.

The video ended and, to his horror, he heard a new one start: the sound of her footsteps and her laugh, the crash of waves---she had always loved the ocean. Then one of her cooking in the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. It hung down to her pink knees. Then her in a dress, just spinning in a blur of dappled gold and white. Each was a memory, sharp and painful.

Until it wasn’t his memory at all.

Where his voice should have been was layered over with the familiar sound of Kastor’s, her voice calling his brother’s name, laughing at his brother’s kisses. And it struck him through in a cold knife through his navel, as he remembered the day he had come home to find that she loved him no longer.

“Turn it off.” He gasped, his head pounding in pain. “ _Turn it off!_ ”

He had forgotten Laurent was next to him, frozen in shock, but then there was the sound of running as Laurent dashed over to his own television. Rather than try to figure out where the videos were coming from, Laurent cut to the quick and simply yanked the cables out of the wall, allowing the room to descend into blissful silence. Then he stood, with cables in hand, unsure of what to do.

Damen recovered his faculties enough to brush the wetness off of his cheeks with the back of his hand, but his limbs were still jellied, his mind hurt, and he felt as though he could throw up at any moment. He staggered forward with all intents to sit down.

Laurent glanced down and, for a brief second, a look of panic took over his white face. Then he skidded forward, his slight form built for speed.

He pushed up against Damen, cold palms flat on his chest, then wordlessly he roped Damen’s right arm over his shoulders, taking most of Damen’s weight on his slim frame. The contact was so unusual, so unexpected that his stupor of grief actually abated for a moment. He glanced back only once and Laurent cried out.

“ _Don’t! Don’t look!_ ”

Then Damen knew, with more pain behind his eyes, that the pictures would be of him with her, his most private moments laid bare as an exposed nerve. So he did not look.

He was vaguely aware that Laurent was forcing him to sit on the bed and that Laurent’s room was photograph free. Then his vision was filled with that lovely face, so similar and yet so unlike her…more milk than honey. It cooled his pain like ice on a wound.

“I…” His voice sounded strange, like it was too far away. “I think I understand now…why you take hot showers…” He knew not a single part of this was his own fault but at the same time he felt dirty and exposed, like his skin needed to be scrubbed off and even then it wouldn’t be enough. Now he could kind of understand why Laurent was fearful of being photographed.

“Just breathe.” Laurent said.

Damen’s eyes closed as he focused on breathing and he felt cold hand flutter around him, butterflies made of ice. When he calmed down enough, Damen opened his eyes and felt immediate guilt over Laurent’s obvious concern. Laurent’s hands were on his knees.

“What is going on?” Laurent asked in a voice as shaky as Damen felt.

“I think…” Without even realizing what he was doing, Damen put his hands over Laurent’s and squeezed, “I think he’s angry…We had the landlord replace the locks and the security cameras so he must have come up through the fire escape, like I feared…I’ve been asking around about him so…he’s taking revenge on me for…for protecting you.”

Laurent bit his lip and Damen knew what was coming. “Damianos---.”

“Do you want to know,” Damen interrupted, feeling his heart beat unevenly, “why I hate my friends to call me ‘Damianos’? It’s because she used to call me that. She never called me Damen…”

“Who…is she?” Laurent could not help himself.

Damen felt the tear roll out of his eye before he could steel himself. He jumped as Laurent removed one hand from under Damen’s to wipe it away and Laurent flinched as Damen used his, now free, hand to hold it there.

“She is…the wife of my brother.”

“I’m sorry.” Laurent whispered, his fingers unfurling so that they were pressed flat against Damen’s cheek. “I…I dragged you into this…”

“ _No_.” Damen’s voice was watery but filled with conviction. “This is _not_ your doing. Not me or Aimeric, or…any of the others. This evil is not your doing. It just…caught me off guard…” Shame was taking over, shame that Laurent---or _anyone_ for that matter---had seen him in such a moment of weakness. He had tried so hard to lock those feelings away and never revisit them.

Laurent moved closer. “How did he even get your photos and videos?”

Cold fear. “I deleted those.” Laurent’s head snapped up and he too could not completely hide his dismay. “I deleted those photos and videos almost a year ago…They were on my old phone too.” He left out the fact that he had dropped that particular phone into the river. More mysteries…

“Should I…call someone to clear…the mess? Nikandros?”

“I understand that now too.” Damen said, leaning into Laurent’s hand without meaning to. “I understand why…you didn't want me to call Auguste that day.” Laurent flushed a little at the memory. “The idea of someone else…seeing all that is…it’s too much. I’ll clean it up and call the landlord and do another sweep, just…” He breathed deep and relished the feeling of his feverish cheek on Laurent’s cool palm, “just give me a moment…”

“No.” Laurent withdrew his hand with a sort of gentle smoothness that indicated he was not uncomfortable with the contact, “I am in debt to you for last time. I’ll do it.” Damen could not bear to tell him that was more afraid to be alone with his thoughts. Instead he just smiled and nodded in thanks.

He disliked the idea of Laurent seeing his photos with her, personal photos, photos of the two of them kissing, probably the nude photos they had exchanged, but…hopefully Laurent would not dwell on them too long, just as Damen had not looked long at his photos in the bath.

He felt absolutely drained, all the goodness sucked out of his body in one fell swoop.

When Damen was beginning to feel like himself again, locking those wretched emotions back deep down inside his heart, he heard something. At first, being on edge, he leapt to his feet in fear and anger, looking for the source of the noise. It almost sounded like…like a cell phone ringing.

Damen panicked. What if the stalker had left something?

Skittering to his feet, Damen began to follow the noise before it disappeared and traced it to the inside of the lone bedside table and pulled it out. It was a cell phone, one Damen had never seen before: black, without a case, and ringing shrilly with only a capital ‘N’ emblazoned on the screen by way of showing the caller.

Damen felt his heartbeat in his throat.

He knew Laurent did not have a cell phone and so someone else must have placed it there. So many emotions were warring inside of him and he didn’t know what to do first. He cursed himself inwardly for being such an indecisive fool.

He took the phone out to the living room. It was not right to keep this from Laurent since it had been hidden in his desk. The phone had gone silent for a moment, revealing that this was the eighth missed call from ‘N’ and Damen had the distinct feeling that a ninth was sure to follow. If it were someone intent on more torture, he would drop the phone out the window.

Laurent was efficient, to say the least.

He had found one of the large black plastic garbage bags he kept stashed under the sink and it was now bulging with the photographs he had gathered up and tossed in. Laurent had not trusted the technology to plug his television back into the wall, and had even yanked out more cables just to be safe. Currently, he was in possession of a long-handled broom and was sweeping the shards of glass into a neat little pile.

At the realization that the room was now devoid of his painful past, Damen felt awash in relief. Was this how Laurent felt when his bed had been cleared after his blazing hot bath? If so, Damen hoped to give Laurent that feeling over and over again…

“Leave the glass.” Laurent’s head shot up at the sound of Damen’s voice. Damen tried to put on a genuine smile, but he knew it was melancholy. “You’ll cut your feet. Let me…”

Laurent swung the broom so it was behind his back. “Let me do this.”

“At least wait until later.” Damen felt another call coming on. “I found something in your room.” Laurent’s eyes grew wide and he leaned the broom against the wall.

As Laurent was beginning to sidestep the remaining glass, the phone began to buzz in Damen’s hand and the soft ring tone began anew. Laurent stopped mid-step and Damen showed it to him, the ‘N’ back onscreen. “I found it in the table next to your bed. I’m going to answer it and see who it is.”

“ _Wait_ \---!” Laurent gasped, but Damen was too quick for him.

He swiped to answer the call and immediately heard something that sounded like sobbing. Hesitantly, Damen pressed the speakerphone button, moving out of Laurent’s way as he tried to grasp at the phone, and the sobbing---it was definitely someone crying---became louder.

“Hello?” Damen asked, now more confused and concerned than anything else.

What responded was nothing short of astonishing. In a scream like a furious cat mixed with a panicked sob, the person on the other end ripped into Damen without mercy. “ _You bastard, you rotten bastard! You fucking stupid cunt, you’ve done it now!_ He knows where I _live_! He knows where I live and he’s gonna kill me. _He’s gonna kill me!_ You swore you’d keep me safe and now… _I’m dead_!” The scream gurgled down into a terrified sob that seemed more animal than human, “Oh, god, you bastard, I’m fucking dead…”

Laurent had finally stopped and his face had gone white as a sheet.

Damen too was also feeling a little white and sick as he recognized the voice on the line, even through the hysteria. It was hard to hide that bell-like tone even behind the colorful curses. “ _Nicaise_?”

For once Nicaise sounded like the child he was as he hiccupped. “Who is this?”

“Damen.”

“ _Damen_?!” Nicaise’s voice was back to shrill. “What are you doing with Laurent’s phone?”

“ _Laurent’s phone_.” Damen repeated looking at Laurent. He looked torn between furious and fearful, meeting Damen’s gaze in a challenge, though his cheeks were red and splotchy. “I’m his bodyguard.” There was a long pregnant silence.

Then Nicaise shrieked. “ _THEN THIS IS YOUR FAULT!_ Oh my _god_. When I met with you the other day he must have followed you. And then…and then…” Nicaise stopped shrieking all because he couldn’t hold back his crying, “And then he found out where I live and now he’s gonna hurt me oh my god!”

“You _met_ Nicaise?” Laurent hissed.

“You lied to me?” Damen gasped not knowing whom it was directed at: Laurent for his phone or Nicaise for not telling him the identity of his sponsor. When Nicaise took a shaky breath to prepare for another bout of screaming Laurent interrupted by snatching his phone out of Damen’s hand.

“Nicaise,” He murmured urgently, curling hair behind his ear to get all obstacles out of his way, “Tell me, what happened? Are you hurt? Are you alone?”

Nicaise lost all control and began to cry again, his speaking almost unintelligible. In fact, he almost sounded like Erasmus. “I m-met that _asshole_ bodyguard of y-yours on S-Saturday…and t-today I fucking g-got my mailbox stuffed full with shit f-for my efforts!” His pause was filled with sniffing and squelching, indication he was attempting to cease his tears; it didn’t seem to be working and Damen’s heart twisted with guilt. “L-Laurent, he s-said he’s gonna kill me if I h-help you! He told me…w-what he gonna do t-to me…”

Before Laurent could even react, Damen had reached over and plucked the phone out of his hand and Laurent turned on him with nothing short of fury on his face. Damen ignored it as a problem for later.

“Nicaise? It’s Damen.”

“ _Fuck you_.” Came the watery, unconvincing reply. Damen ignored it as well.

“Nicaise, I need your address. Remember that promise I made you when we met? I’m keeping my word. Give me your address and I’ll send someone over to guard you. I’m not going to…” Damen looked up at Laurent who was still staring at him with hurt deep in his eyes, “Nobody is going to touch you.”

There was silence. No one knew what to do.

Damen had barely processed his own hurt and now there was pain, guilt, and anger over putting Nicaise in harm’s way. Nicaise was obviously a mess but he still didn’t trust Damen. It was Laurent who broke the silence.

“Give it to him.” He whispered. When no one responded, he spoke louder and his voice was positively frozen. “ _Give him your address Nicaise_.”

It was in Nicaise’s nature to argue against any direct order given to him unless there was money involved. However, Laurent had been giving him money so he could only sniff. “Ok…” Damen felt a small ripple of fear as Nicaise hung up the phone, as they were unable to hear whether or not he was safe, but only a moment later an address appeared on Laurent’s screen. Damen rushed to send it to his group of friends, asking one of them to go there immediately to keep Nicaise safe. The entire time Laurent stared at him with eyes like ice.

“Pallas…Pallas is going to go to him.” Damen said finally when one of his friends responded positively. “Pallas will keep him safe.”

Laurent let out a breath like he had been holding it in. And he turned so that Damen could not see his expression. “The…world’s gone all to hell hasn’t it? And it’s…it’s all my doing.”

Damen would talk about the phone later. For now he moved forward and attempted to take Laurent by the hand. “Laurent, it’s not---.” Laurent wrenched away because his anger gave him strength or maybe because Damen’s sorrow made his grip weaker.

“You don’t know!” The anger flared up for a moment, burning blue. But with Laurent’s personality, it died down quickly and he became cold and sharp again. “You don’t know _anything_ …about Nicaise and Aimeric and…God, you must have led that man right to Nicaise.”

Laurent knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they must have hurt Damen badly. It _did_ hurt Damen badly. He was overcome with guilt that made him feel physically ill as he realized that was exactly what had happened. Nicaise had not quit; Laurent had recognized the danger and had him go into hiding. When Damen had paid him to come out---the boy who just wanted money for school, to live like a normal child---Damen must have been followed, tracked right to him. And then Nicaise would have been followed home. The wind had been knocked out of him and he had no help this time to get to a bed to sit. This time, he just crumpled to the floor, the weight of all of the events of the day pressing hard on his back.

“Damen, I---.”

“It would have been less painful,” Damen interrupted him, “if you had just left those pictures out…” Laurent inhaled sharply; now Damen was the one to sling hurtful words, where he had always held back in the past.

But Laurent did not wait around for apologies. He snatched up his phone from the couch, the action so violent that it accidentally bumped the plastic bag filled with photos. One or two fluttered to the ground but Laurent did not move to pick them up. Instead, he walked away, his bare feet catching on the broken glass so that there were tiny drops of blood leading to his room as he slammed the door shut.

Damen exhaled and glanced down at the photos, though he knew it would only cause him more pain. One half covered the other: Damen kissing her fine profile was overlapped by Kastor, hands buried possessively in golden hair. _Unforgivable_.

As he sat, Damen fought back the haze of pain as he began to formulate a plan. He took up his own phone and began to send messages…


	20. Day 19: The Powder Keg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so! Now that the angst has come down hard you get to see if/how Laurent and Damen make up after a very rough day.  
> Also some crowd favorites will be returning in this chapter and there will be the introduction of my boy Lazar! Imagine him as the biggest hipster you have ever encountered in your life ;) (And PS, my Laurent always has like razor-straight hair so I apologize if anyone headcanons him with curly hair ahah) I have updated the tags as well to include mystery and suspense since so many of you have been guessing about the stalker's identity.  
> Thank you all so much for your awesome comments last chapter! I'm so glad it evoked strong emotions and really set the tone for what these two are dealing with. You guys are so great and I hope you like this chapter too ;)

** Day 19: The Powder Keg **

Damen spent a sleepless evening and night disposing of his own photos, putting up a tarp around the shattered window to prepare for any possible rain, and making no less than thirty phone calls, on top of the uncountable text messages that had been blowing up his phone whenever he was not in the middle of a phone call. He had to keep himself busy, he thought, to keep the pain from settling in and drowning him. That’s how he had managed to function in the past.

There had been only one small interruption.

Laurent had emerged wide-eyed and trembling slightly around 3 AM and Damen could not fight the guilt on this. They had both hurt each other and now Laurent had been alone with his nightmares. He approached Laurent with the full intent to apologize but was stopped by two ice-cold hands pressed flat on his chest. His head was lowered so Damen could not see his expression, only the top of his white-blond head.

“Damianos, I---.”

Damen gripped Laurent’s hands, fully aware of what a breach of protocol this was. But…at the moment he only cared about heating up those frozen fingers. “No Laurent.” He whispered, taking Laurent’s hands in his own and rubbing them together to transfer his heat. “You’re right. I was careless. I should have just let Auguste handle this. I’m sorry.”

“I…I wanted to blame someone.” Laurent said looking up. His expression was flat but his eyes… “You provided a convenient target.”

“I’m so huge, it’s hard to miss.” Damen joked and Laurent laughed lightly. “All is forgiven Laurent. Did you wake up because of…” He did not finish his question and Laurent’s small body movements gave him away. In a motion of extreme intimacy Damen dropped Laurent’s now-warm hands and retrieved the blanket on the couch so he could tuck it around Laurent’s shoulders. “Stay out here then. I won’t let anyone touch you or haunt your dreams.”

“You didn’t put up as much of a fight as I thought you would…” Laurent said maneuvering out of Damen’s way by lounging on the couch.

“I’m tired of losing what I care for.” Damen said, filled with righteous anger. “I’m not going to let this monster win. I…”

“Let’s save the questions for later,” Laurent said with a wide yawn, “I’m in danger of falling asleep midway through…”

As Laurent stretched out on the couch, using his arm and a jacket of Damen’s as a rudimentary pillow, Damen outlined his plan. He told Laurent of all the people he had contacted and when they were going to come over tomorrow. Laurent snorted sleepily as Damen shared some of the more amusing messages Pallas had sent to him in response to Nicaise’s dirty mouth and volatile mood. Laurent must have been equally exhausted though, as it only took about twenty minutes of Damen talking for Laurent to curl up into himself and fall asleep.

Feeling a little better now that he was not at odds with Laurent anymore, Damen made sure the blanket sufficiently covered Laurent and then went back to work. He lost track of time until the grayish-pink hue of the room alerted him to the sunrise. Maybe it was the stress, but he did not feel tired.

Cooking would do him some good, as it was the sort of mindless preparation he could throw himself into wholeheartedly.

Today’s menu was muffins from scratch: blueberry cream, cranberry-orange, and cheddar. It was relaxing to beat the mix into submission and smell the fruits of his labor baking in the oven. When Laurent woke up and padded into the kitchen, the muffins were out cooling on a rack and, without his normal morning routine, his blond hair looked as though it had survived a whirlwind.

He looked like a hellcat put through a hailstorm and Damen smiled for the first time in hours.

“How long will I be skipping school then?” Laurent asked, still half asleep as he selected a semi-cool blueberry muffin and began to peel off the outer wrapper. “This,” he gestured to the tarp covering his window, “seems like a good enough excuse to skip class…”

“That, and I told you that was my plan last night.” Damen said. “I already emailed your professors and told them that you’ll be taking the rest of the week off. Is that ok?”

“I’m at least a semester ahead of everyone else.” Laurent sat down and accepted the glass of orange juice Damen offered. “I should be fine. And I can always study…wherever it is that you’re taking me.”

“Let’s discuss that when everyone comes over this afternoon.” Damen said. “I’ve called them to avoid having a trail through messages but I’ve left out a lot of information. Just…work on getting packed after breakfast.”

“What time is everyone coming over?” Laurent asked through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Five thirty.” Damen said. “It’s going to be a full house so I hope you’re prepared to have guests.” Laurent grimaced. “And I also think we should hold off on the questions until later. But Laurent, I swear, no matter what you ask me…I'll answer honestly.” He knew Laurent would ask about her but it would be better than to keep hiding this. Someday Laurent would find out and Damen would prefer it to be on his terms.

Laurent took a sip of juice. “Ok…I’ll wait.”

After breakfast, the two of them worked like a well-oiled machine. They cleaned plates and bagged up vegetables and fruits to freeze so they did not go to waste. There was a small market they could shop in when they arrived at their destination. When the kitchen had been organized, the two of them went to go shower and then began to pack their things.

Damen packed his duffel bag, thinking of how much his world had changed since the last time he had packed this bag. At least the contents were the same and very minimal: his handgun and the accompanying magazines, his bulletproof vest and the GPS tracker, two pairs of black pants, four spare shirts, his underwear and socks, and his neat toiletry kit all tucked away inside. He knew this would fit on what he had requested from Nikandros, but he could only hope Laurent remembered their limitations.

Luckily when Laurent had finished packing, he emerged with only a small backpack and his own small case of toiletries. He gave Damen something like a shy smile when Damen regarded these items.

“What? Did you think I was going to insist on bringing the entire library with me?”

“Actually, yes.” Damen replied and Laurent decided, after further inflection, that it did seem very much like him to insist on it. After that they could only wait until the others arrived, refusing to indulge in their curiosity as they had agreed to save the questions until later.

At five thirty sharp, there was someone who buzzed them in the lobby and only a few moments later, Nikandros, Aktis, and Lydos piled into the apartment. They made the space seem bigger what with their enormous frames and loud voices, as well as the mountain of Styrofoam boxes filled with gyro that they brought as a gift for dinner. Nikandros judged the shattered window with twisted lips of dismay.

“Oh my god Damen, what have you gotten yourself into…” He murmured.

“Keys?” Damen responded, rummaging through the bags of food. He did not even need to look behind him to catch the keys that Nikandros threw at him. “I’ll return it in one piece, I swear.”

“Is this everyone when Pallas gets here?” Aktis asked from where he was perched near Laurent.

“Not exactly…” Damen said with a shudder.

But Pallas did come next dragging a familiar face in tow. Pallas’ normally sweet, smiling face was now somewhat haggard, dark circles under his wide eyes and a look on his face like he had seen and heard some crazy shit in the past twenty-four hours. It was no small wonder as a light, little sylph breezed past him and skidded to a halt in front of Laurent.

“What the fuck are you looking at, you big bastard?” Damen sighed as he heard that familiar bell voice aimed at Aktis. “Looking I don’t have a price for just yet, but talking and touching are gonna cost you.”

“Nicaise, please.” Laurent chastised.

Pallas sat down heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Please. He is a delight now in comparison to earlier…” Damen patted him apologetically on the shoulder and offered a gyro to drown out the exhaustion. “I think I prefer working in strip clubs…”

While Damen’s friends began to eat and wait for the others to show up, Nicaise sat next to his sponsor and actually began to cry furious tears again. Damen wandered over with a carton of food and actually saw Laurent consoling the boy in hushed tones.

“It’s ok, Nicaise. Don’t think that he’ll follow through with it.”

Nicaise was attempting to wipe his tears away but they were coming out too quickly for him to catch them. He spoke with lightning-quick intensity that belied his hysteria. “He took them w-without my permission. But what if he sends them to my _school_? What if…what if they don’t let me come and I have to work---?”

Laurent clutched Nicaise by the base of his slim neck to pull his head close and confident. “You will _never_ have to go back to that shop, I swear.”

Both of them shot nearly identical blue glares at whoever approached, but Laurent relaxed when he saw it was Damen. No questions now, Damen acknowledged with a nod as he handed Laurent the only box that contained salad. Nicaise looked as though he wanted to spit in Damen’s face, but he accepted the napkins offered in lieu of tissues.

Damen could eavesdrop no longer as a new problem was rearing its’ ugly head.

Auguste was outside the door with three of his own men in a match of Damen’s numbers and he knocked as though he wished to break it down with his fist. Steeling himself, Damen opened the door. “Hello Auguste, care for a gyro?”

Auguste pushed past him with a snarl and immediately went over to where his brother was sitting. He looked surprised that Nicaise was there. “Laurent, I have some concerns.”

Damen offered Auguste’s men the same and they were much more apt to eat. Introductions were made quickly. Stone-faced Jord was present, showing no signs of fatigue despite the fact that he had been sent to Aimeric’s university and back within the past twenty-four hours. Orlant was there as well and the only new addition was a scruffy, but good-natured man who introduced himself as Lazar. He and Orlant chatted with Damen’s men until the final people arrived.

Laurent stood from where he and Auguste had been chatting on the sofa when the final two guests arrived.

Erasmus, pretty and sweet as he was, had the attention of the entire room as he bounded forward to take Laurent’s hands in his own. Laurent gave him a smile that Damen had seen very rarely as Erasmus gave stuttering condolences. “L-Laurent. Auguste. I’m so s-sorry that you have to d-deal with this. I…I wish to h-help anyway I can…”

Damen clapped Torveld on the shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

Torveld smiled sorrowfully and accepted a gyro. “Don’t thank me. Erasmus insisted. But, I didn’t tell him about Aimeric…You’ll allow him to have that peace of mind?” Damen nodded, also not wanting to see the sweetness of Erasmus tainted any further.

They fell silent just in time to hear Nicaise say to Erasmus. “I don’t fuck twinks like you.” Erasmus flushed scarlet.

Damen and Laurent were patient enough to let everyone finish eating before Damen began to explain the situation. The smell of spices, onions, and yogurt sauce was still heavy in the air as the motley group of men began to congregate in Laurent’s living room. It was probably the most foot traffic his home had seen since he had moved in.

Damen did most of the talking, with some small interjections from Laurent, as he explained what had happened in the past day, though he omitted some details like what the photos in Laurent’s apartment had been of and the fact that Aimeric was currently stabilizing in the hospital. He brought everyone over at once to avoid having to repeat himself multiple times. Damen’s men, for all he had kept them in the dark, looked a little stunned at what he was dealing with.

“I want to take Laurent to a safe house of mine.” Damen concluded. “Somehow this guy has managed to keep tabs on us this entire time and no one knows of my place aside from myself and Nikandros. I just wanted to make sure that the others were safe as well.” He looked pointedly at Nicaise, who glared back, and Erasmus who gripped Torveld’s hand.

“I want to express my disapproval over this plan.” Auguste said. He was sitting on the armrest of the sofa, his arms crossed in defiance. “I want to know where you are taking my brother.”

“If I tell you,” Damen shot back, “then that will be one more possible avenue Laurent’s stalker could use to find him. Rather than focusing on where we are, you should focus on who exactly we are dealing with.”

“I am close! I just need more proof! And I’m not letting Laurent leave until you tell me where you’re going!”

“Goddamn it Auguste!” Damen felt the irritation rising in his chest. “We’re not going to argue about this! Let me do my job and---.” Auguste looked as though he was going to interrupt when Nicaise, on edge, beat him to it.

“For _fuck’s sake_! If your brother wasn’t more attractive than you,” He said to Auguste, “I would think the two of you wanted each other’s asses. And you, asshole,” to Damen, “stay on topic. I’d like to see my sixteenth birthday, thank you.” He then settled in, looking very pleased at the silence he’d caused.

“Ah, you _do_ always talk like this.” Pallas said softly, almost in reverence.

“Told you so.” Nicaise replied.

“Anyways,” Damen continued, “Laurent and I are going to the safe house for the next three or four days. Aimeric is in the secure ward and Nicaise…I’ll assign someone to stay with you or even take you to a separate safe house if need be.” Pallas looked distinctly ill at the thought. “Erasmus…have you received anything within the past two days?”

Erasmus did not look terrified, in fact he looked quietly determined as he held the hand of his lover. “N-No. I find it strange…that I am the only o-one who has not been c-contacted…”

Everyone was silent thinking about why such a thing could be, disgust prominent on the faces of Damen and Auguste’s men. Once again it was Nicaise that took the center stage.

He had gripped his own shoulders as if to protect his body and his aqua eyes were staring hard at the wood floors. “You’re safe, I think…You’re a rent boy who got out, yeah?” There was a fleeting look of something like jealousy as Erasmus nodded in response. “That asshole has dirt on me…I’d bet a raw fuck he’s got some on Aimeric too.” Nicaise looked pointedly at Laurent for a moment before turning back to Erasmus. “But I don’t think he’s got shit on you, honey pot.”

“What kind of ‘dirt’?” Nikandros asked sensibly from where he was leaning against the wall. Damen was sure most of the men in the room were wondering the same thing.

Nicaise fixed him with a look that appeared chilling on his childish face. “If it appears to taint me, why would I want to tell you? I’m sure it’s enough to make your balls shrivel up.”

“Thank you, Nicaise, that’s enough.” Laurent said. “I’m inclined to agree with him though. I think we’re safe to assume that Erasmus is safe.”

Though he had hidden his fear well, Erasmus could not help the relief that soaked into his expression and posture. “I see…I still wish t-to help…in any w-way I can.” It was now clear that at least half of the people in the room were in love with him. Damen cleared his throat to regain some semblance of control.

“ _Anyways_. I’ll need someone to guard Nicaise while we’re gone, someone to watch the apartment and two of you cover for us back at base and keep Auguste and his boy band up to date.” Orlant seemed to take offense to the last statement, though Lazar laughed. “And I’ll pay you for your efforts.”

Aktis scoffed. “C’mon boss, you don’t need to pay us. We’ll follow you to hell. I’ll watch this foul-mouthed brat for you.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Pallas cautioned and Nicaise glared at Aktis.

“I’m not afraid of you, little scorpion.” Aktis said with a wink toward Nicaise. In all honesty, he was probably the only one fiery enough to keep pace with Nicaise. “Who’s gonna watch the apartment?”

“I’ll do it,” Lazar raised a hand lazily.

“I will as well!” Pallas tried not to sound too excited as he volunteered himself up. Damen took a quick tally of Lazar: longish hair tied in a small bun, a beard that was carefully unruly, the way the sleeves of his Oxford were rolled up, and the fact that he wore leather suspenders…Shit, Pallas was going to fuck him.

“Make sure you actually keep a lookout.” Damen cautioned by way of allowing it. It was hard to say who looked more pleased, Pallas or Lazar. “Nikandros, Lydos, do you think you can handle any jobs that come your way back at headquarters?” Friday night might have been the only issue, but Lydos and Nikandros seemed to accept the challenge with grim determination. “I will pay all of you though. There is no arguing about that.” He had finally found a use for the gold bars Auguste had given him in payment for guarding Laurent.

“And what am I to do while you are busy kidnapping my brother?” Auguste snapped. “I am down a trusted man since Lazar will be busy---.”

He took too long to describe what Lazar would be doing, so Nicaise helpfully filled in. “Busy performing a body cavity search?” Auguste glared, Pallas blushed, and Lazar actually looked a little smug, as thought that had been exactly his plan. Damen was beginning to regret bringing the lot of them over at once.

“I hope that you’ll continue making your speedy progress on whatever investigation you’ve got going on.”

Auguste must have sensed Damen’s underlying tone of sarcasm, because his dander went up. “Don’t talk down to me, Damianos!” He hissed. “I’ve been working _hard_ on this! Losing sleep! The last thing I need is---.”

“Auguste, please.” Laurent said softly.

“I’m close Laurent. So goddamn close. But…” All eyes were on Auguste as he looked probably the most downtrodden Damen had ever seen in their time together. “It’s difficult to do this and work.” Laurent held his brother’s hand in understanding. “And you know I can’t trust anyone else with this or…” The brothers were lost in their own world after that.

“Is there anything you’d ask of us?” Torveld said looking grim as he ran his free hand through Erasmus’ burnished curls. “I’ll not put Erasmus in danger but I’ll help in any other way. Since I work in the media I might be able to put the word out…”

“Not yet. Just tell me or one of my guys if you get anything else from him.” Damen said after a long moment. “We also don’t want to put either of you back in a position where you could be hurt for associating with us. But…” Damen took in Erasmus’ height and golden hair. Just to be safe… “Erasmus do you mind if we straighten your hair?”

 

When Erasmus emerged from the bathroom with Laurent and Nicaise who was brandishing a hair straightener, the effect was startling; so much so that Damen and Torveld immediately burst out laughing when they saw the two blonds.

Erasmus’ curls had been hot pressed into relative straightness, though the ends still waved stubbornly, and his honey-colored hair hung down to his chin. He grinned bashfully at Torveld from behind his new barrier. “Does it suit me? Do I look like Laurent?”

“Everything suits you, love.” Torveld replied, curling a lock of it behind Erasmus’ ear.

Though they were not identical, it would fool a camera on a security system. Laurent was also a little flushed as his own yellow-white hair floated in ringlets above his head. Damen could not tell whether the flush was due to the embarrassment, the heat, or both. Nicaise simply looked pleased with his handiwork.

“You look good with curly hair.” Damen remarked, lightly patting Laurent’s curls as he meandered past. It felt like fine sheep’s wool. Laurent whirled on him, his expressions warring between laughter, embarrassment, and annoyance.

“ _Stop it_.” It almost came out in a laugh. “I look like a milkmaid.”

The blush helped, Damen thought to himself as Laurent walked over to where Pallas and Lazar were pretending not to flirt. While he watched, Damen was duly aware of Nikandros sidling up beside him, ready to speak in confidence.

“If you continue to stare, Auguste is going to notice and make your life hell.”

“Noted.” Damen whispered in reply, turning to face his friend. “Everything’s ready? You’ll escort Erasmus out?” Nikandros was the closest of his men to looking like him and Damen hoped their little switch would at least buy him a half hour’s head start if the cameras had been hacked again.

“Yes.” Nikandros nodded solemnly. “Damianos, you know, I’ve been thinking since you explained this situation to us…this seems like a lot of work for a one man job. To hack into the cameras, to track you, to break into this apartment and simultaneously threaten the others…it doesn’t seem _possible_ for one man to do…”

Damen nodded. It would be a Herculean effort and he wondered if Auguste had come to the same conclusion. “This whole thing…especially trying to blackmail Aimeric and Nicaise, it doesn’t add up. What does he want them to hide? This…whole thing is very suspicious.”

“Ask him about it,” Nikandros said, inclining towards Laurent.

“We’ll be lucky if we get a straight answer.” Damen admitted, although he and Laurent had come to an unspoken agreement about their questions earlier. “But Nikandros, I need another favor or two from you as well.”

“Anything.” Nikandros said instantly. Despite Damen’s near constant crusade to give him an ulcer, he was loyal and helpful until the end.

Damen extended his cell phone. “Will you run a check on this while I’m gone? I have…a feeling. Just a feeling that…maybe…” If Laurent did not use his cell phone then perhaps…someone had been tracking the two of them through Damen’s phone. “If you need to contact me, send it through our secure email; I have wifi in the house. The other thing..." Damen took a moment to explain and Nikandros asked no questions but nodded. He and Lydos could do such a thing easily. "And Nikandros?”

Nikandros had taken Damen’s cell phone without question. “What is it Damen?”

“We’re coming back by Sunday.” He refused to speak in ‘ifs’. If they didn’t return by then, come looking. If they didn’t come back hide Nicaise and Aimeric. If they didn’t come back…Damen refused to even think it. They _would_ be back by Sunday.

“Ok. I’ll let you know what I find.” Nikandros said. “Be careful, Damen.”

“Always.” Damen said.

He cut off his conversation with Nikandros when Laurent walked back over, having extracted a promise from Pallas and Lazar.

“What was that all about?” Damen asked.

“Among other things, I asked them to sleep on the couch if they should find themselves wishing to sleep in the nude.” Laurent responded, looking as though he ached to run his hands through his hair.

“Good call.” Damen said. “There’s no ‘if’; it’s definitely going to happen now that Pallas has gotten an eyeful of Lazar.” Laurent seemed a little surprised at Damen’s supreme confidence.

“I wasn’t aware that Lazar was into men to begin with…”

Damen raised an eyebrow. “That’s no obstacle for Pallas, I assure you. It’s all over once he decides he wants your ass. Lazar was done the moment he walked in here looking like a barber from the early 1900s. _Anyways_ , we should probably get ready to go.” It was almost ten PM and Damen wanted to get moving before it got too late. They had a bit of a drive ahead of them. “We’re going to go out first down the stairs with Torveld to the parking garage. Erasmus and Nikandros will follow us down in the elevator about 15 minutes after.”

The hardest part of the whole plan was convincing Auguste to leave his brother.

He embraced Laurent roughly---taking care not to muss the curls---and whispered in Laurent’s ear, a fierce stream of promises and plans and vague threats against Damen should something befall the two of them.

After he, Orlant, and Jord took their leave, it was time for Nicaise and Aktis to head home as well. Damen embraced Aktis with feeling, knowing he had arguably the most thankless job. Nicaise stood detached from the group, staring carefully at the ground.

Laurent moved to him, keeping his voice low. “Nicaise. Don’t try to scare him away. He’s not going to try anything with you and he’s going to keep you safe.”

“Just like you promised?” Nicaise shot back accusingly, in a mockery of Laurent’s tone. His emotions were becoming a little easier to decipher, as he used his bravado and sharpness to hide his true thoughts. Laurent was not so easily swayed.

“I swore to you Nicaise. You’re not going back to that rent shop.”

Nicaise looked up at him, searching suspiciously for the dishonesty in Laurent’s expression. Damen knew he wouldn’t find it; Laurent, he knew, would shield this kid from hell if need be.

“Nicaise. I won’t let anyone touch you.” Laurent assured and Damen’s heart beat unevenly. Nicaise was quite at a loss for words for a few moments.

Then, “That hairstyle makes you look like a sheep.”

Then there were only five left to leave as Pallas and Lazar sat intimately close on Laurent’s sofa. Lazar could only offer a careless wave at their departure and Damen had the distinct feeling that he was going to be paying for Pallas to fuck wildly for the next three or four days.

Damen shouldered his own pack and offered to take Laurent’s backpack as well, but Laurent refused, carrying his own weight as the two of them and Torveld trotted down to the small parking garage beneath Laurent’s apartment building. Damen had scouted it out beforehand so that they could try to avoid detection from the half dozen security cameras in place. Even so Laurent’s Erasmus-like curls were still in place.

It didn’t take them long to find Nikandros’ preferred mode of transportation that he was lending to Damen for the next couple of days.

As Damen strapped his duffel onto the side, Laurent was warily eyeing the black motorcycle as if it might rear up and run him over without warning. Damen smiled as he stood back up, offering a helmet.

“Have you never ridden a motorcycle before?” He asked kindly, so that Laurent did not think he was being teased.

“No.” Laurent admitted honestly, the curls disappearing underneath the spare helmet. “Is there anything I should be aware of before I risk my life to ride this machine?”

“Watch out for this pipe,” Damen remarked, pointing at it. “It gets hot and I’d hate for you to burn your leg. Just hold on tight to me, lean with me when we turn, and I’ll get you there in one piece.” It was a bit of a journey though so Damen hoped Laurent was not uncomfortable.

Laurent jumped adorably as Damen straddled the bike and started up the engine with a smooth roar. He patted the seat behind him and Laurent gingerly hooked one leg over behind him. A moment later Laurent’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the white fingers braiding together so that he would not easily lose his grip. He was nervous.

“A little closer.” Damen encouraged until he felt Laurent’s entire body pressed flush against his back. “Good.”

Then, with no warning, Damen revved the engine and took off, relishing in the feeling of escape, of the cool night air whipping at his face, and of Laurent squeezing him hard with arms and thighs. He had about two hours to enjoy this feeling before they reached their destination.

 


	21. Day 20: The Untouched Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, shout out to me for accidentally giving mini spoilers in the comments last chapter! I realized that last chapter made no mention of where Damen and Laurent were headed, but apparently when I replied to comments, I apparently forgot and told you where they're going. Good job me, 10/10 secret keeper.   
> I'm so excited for this safe house mini-arc though! Some big things are going to happen and I hope you all will enjoy it. Starting with today we have a recipe that is a favorite of my dad's, so I saved it for a special occasion ;) Also Damen is so extra; showing off his special wine cellar. He's such a snob.  
> Only 10 chapters left of this story and I can't believe how awesome this has been! You guys are the best ;)

** Day 20: The Untouched Gift **

By the time the two of them were outside the city limits and the lights of the city had faded to a faint glow behind them, Laurent had relaxed considerably and his hold was not as tight as it had been. Damen could feel Laurent’s fluttering heartbeat through his back.

Soon they were on the highway past the suburbs and even longer after it was getting to be the prettier countryside. Soon there were no cars in front of them or behind them as Damen maneuvered through the rolling hills and lush hinterlands that were a good two hours outside of the city. This area was renowned for the beautiful lakes and springs that dotted the hills, as well as dense forests that hid these secret gems from view of the road. Many a wealthy person who could not afford or find a house near the ocean had purchased a plot of land with intents to build a lake house retreat during the sweltering summer months.

It was kind of peaceful, in a way: the air was cleaner, there was no one following them, and the only noise was the gentle purr of the motorcycle. Two hours in, Laurent’s head was thumping like a stone against his back, obviously having fallen asleep despite that fact that his arms were still laced around Damen’s back. Occasionally, Damen would touch Laurent’s hands, just to make sure that Laurent had not lost his grip in his sleep.

Damen had only been here once before but he knew exactly where to turn off the main road. These were mostly private properties, but he knew where to go.

It was half hidden behind the twisted boughs of a cluster of trees and Damen noticed his maintenance man---a man he knew was absolutely trustworthy and did not even know his real name---had opened the lovely wrought-iron property gate that opened for Damen and no other.

Laurent was jostled a little by the change in speed and the change in quality of the road and he began to stir. Damen slowed the bike and gripped Laurent’s hands to make sure he did not slip off.

“Mmm…Are we here?” Laurent mumbled sleepily so that the entire sentence slurred together in one jumbled word. Damen patted Laurent’s hands.

“Yeah, we’re here.” Damen said. “Just have to get to the end of the path.”

It did not talk long to get through the copse of trees before they reached the clearing and Laurent was treated to the sight of Damen’s lake house. Mixing both modern and rustic styles, it was two stories tall with the bottom half fashioned from stylish gray rock and the upper floor and balcony of light-colored wood. His maintenance man had left some of the lights on for them and it illuminated all of the large picture windows and the grounds. Although it was not visible from the front driveway, Damen knew there was a set of stone stairs that led to the lakeshore and the pier attached. Even now he could hear the lapping of the lake---his lake---on the near shore.

The engine cut off, leaving a ringing in Damen’s ears in comparison to the complete silence. He removed his helmet and then turned to look at Laurent.

He looked wide-eyed and overly alert, as he often did after just waking up, and was looking around with open curiosity. He removed his helmet without even realizing and Damen could not help but choke back a laugh.

Laurent twitched and looked at him in confusion. Damen’s stomach hurt from holding back laughter.

Gently, he shifted some of Laurent’s helmet-crushed hair and saw Laurent flush red. “Aww…your curls are ruined…”

“ _Shut up_!” Laurent snarled, moving deftly out of Damen’s grasp. Damen’s back felt a little cold without Laurent pressed up against him. His hands quickly raked through his hair as he rushed to change the subject. “Where are we? Is this…is this your house?” He was so intent on taking in his surroundings that he accepted Damen’s helping hand without complaint. “Are we near water?”

Damen waited to answer until he had unclipped his duffel bag from the side of the motorcycle. “Yeah…this is my house. And all this area, this forest and lake are my property. I told you I was taking you somewhere safe.”

Laurent was still very attentive as they walked up the steps to the long wooden porch and Damen typed in the 5-digit password on the electronic lock panel next to the door. With an excited little beep, the lock clicked and the door swung open into the lake house.

The entire bottom floor was pretty much open and to Damen’s tastes: a large sheet rock fireplace, comfortable sofas, an enormous, antique dining room table and a chefs kitchen done with a bit of rustic style. During the day the enormous picture windows would give them an uninterrupted view of the small lake behind the house. As per his request, the maintenance man had allowed someone in to clean so that it was as spotless and fresh-smelling as if someone lived there regularly. Sadly, there was not a library there, but…Damen could always change that…

Carelessly he tossed his bag on the couch and allowed Laurent to cautiously explore. It took cats, even ones from hell, a while to get used to new surroundings.

In the meantime he went to the kitchen to inspect their situation on food. The fridge was basically empty as was the pantry and Damen made a mental note to visit the local farmers’ market the next morning to gather up some ingredients for their small retreat there. At least the water was on.

Laurent was peering out the window when he returned to living area and his eyes were sparkling.

“This is your house? This is your lake? All of it?” He looked so excited, Damen could not help but beam.

“Yeah it’s all mine. Usually I spend a lot of time in fall and summer here. Well, I shouldn’t say that; I’ve only had this place for about a year now. But you’re the first to visit aside from Nikandros.”

“And you bought it as a safe house?” Laurent asked in disbelief. “It seems a little lavish for that don’t you think?”

Damen felt a little bit of a pressure on his chest. Now that they were alone, he had expected this. He knew that they had decided to save the questions until they were here together and he was tired of hiding this part of himself from Laurent. Even if they took the night to rest, they would finish this eventually.

“It…wasn’t meant to be a safe house.” Damen admitted.

He sat on his couch---chosen so that it could comfortably accommodate his size and at least four others---and Laurent moved to join him, perching lightly by Damen’s legs.

Damen continued, wishing to close his eyes but forcing himself to keep them open. He couldn’t continue to be afraid of this. “My brother’s wife…I’ll tell you more about that later but…I’m sure you’ve guessed that I used to date her. In fact,” his heart throbbed a little at having to divulge this, his most painful secret, “two years ago, I thought I might…ask her to marry me. She loved the ocean so…I thought to buy us a house by the beach as a…as an engagement gift. Obviously it didn’t work out,” He smiled over at Laurent who was carefully expressionless, “so I bought this place for myself instead.”

The entire confession was rife with unanswered questions and Damen could practically feel Laurent amassing them in his mind. But Laurent nodded softly in understanding and the tension broke.

“I see.”

When he made no further attempt to pry, Damen felt comfortable enough to change the subject. “There’s no food here right now, so tomorrow we’ll go to a breakfast place about twenty minutes down the road and then to buy food. Sound good to you?”

“Do you own the grocery here as well?” Laurent asked and smiled as Damen doubled over in laughter.

“No, I do not own the entire town. Don't be cheeky. But there is a decent-sized town nearby where we can go if we need supplies. I think I have books around here somewhere but I don’t know if they’ll suit your discerning tastes.”

At the moment their conversation lulled, Damen noticed Laurent beginning to nod off again and remembered how exhausted he had been on their ride over. He was also becoming aware that he had not slept for almost 48 hours. It had been an exhausting few days for the both of them and a peaceful night’s rest would do the both of them good.

“Laurent?”

“Mmmm?” Laurent only opened one eye.

“Shall we head up to bed? I think we both need the rest…In the spirit of fairness, I’ll even let you choose your room first.” Damen’s lake house had been commissioned with three guest bedrooms spacious enough so that his friends could all comfortably stay over when the time came.

“I want the best room.” Laurent mumbled, “With the biggest bed.”

“Of course you do.” Damen chuckled, his muscles protesting as he stood. “Come on then; I’ll show you to the master suite.”

The master bedroom was Damen’s favorite room in house that had been built to exactly match his tastes. There was a balcony that overlooked the lake so that he could watch the sunrise from his bedroom and he fully intended to have a hot tub installed there at one point. The master bathroom was honestly large enough for an entire family to use comfortably and the bed was so large, Damen could throw himself across it and not have any of his limbs dangling off. Laurent would look tiny in comparison.

“No folded towels?” Laurent asked jokingly. “I’m preferential to swans but I’ll take an elephant if you know how to make it.”

“Don’t push your luck.” Damen responded, pushing Laurent’s shoulder. “If you need anything, I’ll be---.” He gestured toward the hall and Laurent turned back to him, his large eyes even wider in confusion and something like concern.

“You…you’re not…staying here?” He asked, now glancing at the large room with apprehension.

“You want me to stay?” Damen asked. He felt as though he could not believe what he was hearing. Laurent was completely safe here and…he still wanted Damen to stay with him? He supposed nightmares were harder to shake than stalkers, but…His heart palpitated when Laurent bit his bottom lip.

“Yes…if you…don’t mind…”

He could hardly refuse and Damen felt a return to normalcy as he felt the cool pulse of Laurent’s body next to him in the darkness. He had to remember before he fell asleep, “Laurent. I won’t let anyone touch you.” It came out slightly mumbled.

“I know Damianos.” Laurent whispered, also sounding intensely sleepy. “And…I think this is much better than a beach house.”

Damen fell asleep smiling.

 

Damen woke up that morning to something tickling his nose and he felt a desperate urge to sneeze, which he repressed. Instead he used his right hand to rub his nose and this action woke him up. Morning light streamed in the bedroom and it took Damen a moment to gain his bearings. He knew from his surroundings where he was, but soon all rational thoughts fled his mind.

Laurent had migrated up onto his large bicep, using it as a pillow, and his golden-white hair was fanned out so that the tips of it tickled Damen’s nose every time he inhaled. Damen’s left hand, seemingly possessing a mind of its’ own, had braided itself into Laurent’s hair just behind the left ear.

His eyelashes really were impossibly long and, this close, Damen could see a dusting of pale brown freckles scattered across the high cheeks and fine bridge of the nose. This was something he could justify purchasing a lake house for…

It was still early but Damen didn’t mind letting Laurent rest a little longer.

He stared out the glass of the French double doors and watched the colors of sunrise stain the surface of the lake a myriad of pastel pinks. Occasionally his fingers gently rubbed against the soft skin of Laurent’s scalp and forehead and Laurent stirred, trying to nuzzle his face deeper into the warm skin of Damen’s arm. He couldn’t help but smile foolishly at him.

Damen lay still for about a half an hour until his stomach began to protest in one soft gurgle. He supposed Laurent could always nap later.

Gently, he took his left index finger and began to poke Laurent in the temple. “Get up Laurent. Time to wake up… I’m hungry…” Those yellow eyelashes fluttered and Laurent made another kind of cooing noise at Damen’s small annoyances. Damen saw one imaginary golden ear flick twice and, boldly, he rubbed the spot where he had seen it.

Laurent whimpered and opened his eyes. “You’re so…noisy…”

Damen almost leaned forward and kissed Laurent’s forehead but he held back. “And you’re lazy. If you want breakfast we have to get up now.” That was not necessarily the case but Damen was only getting hungrier.

Laurent gave a sweet little half-smile. “You’re not a good liar.”

Some emotion must have shown on his face and proved Laurent correct because Laurent opened his other eye and they became very wide for a half-second. In that time Damen thought they were almost indigo around the pupil; he had never noticed because he had not been so close before. He could not appreciate it much longer because Laurent sat up quickly and created some convenient distance between them. His blond hair was positively wild and a little wavy this morning thanks to the curling incident of the previous night, Damen noticed as he flexed feeling back into his left hand. It was kind of nice to see Laurent unpolished and natural.

Damen raised himself up with his palms and rolled his shoulders, feeling them pop and fill with liquid warmth at the movement. Laurent watched him carefully, from where he was perched at a safe distance.

“Let’s go?” Damen asked, feeling his cheek dimple with his smile.

He was kind enough to allow Laurent enough time to smooth his appearance, though he could not completely get the waves out of the tips of his hair. Nicaise had outdone himself.

There was a town about twenty minutes from the lake house, which had a charming bed and breakfast style café where they could eat breakfast; Damen smirked as Laurent perused the men with pursed lips. It was difficult to find something made solely of vegetables in this establishment. The elderly hostess was nothing but patient as he took his sweet-ass time making a decision.

After breakfast, the two of them went to the local farmer’s market, which was connected to a small grocery and Damen could get a front row seat to Laurent’s intense haggling skills.

Laurent was engaged in an argument that was by turns fierce and sweet over the price of two bundles of fresh spinach when Damen decided to go inside and look for his own ingredients. Laurent could handle the produce.

Inside the grocery store, he located the largest bottle of olive oil available---large enough to grease every floor in his house---and then went to go find the fresh eggs and very specific type of dough he needed for the recipe. He knew this grocery had it, as there were many people who would use it in the area, but the question was, which brand was of better quality?

Damen was eyeing the two options in his hand with subtle intensity and was about to go find a store worker for a more informed opinion, when he heard the sound of running on the tile floors. It was getting closer and Damen peered around the edge of the aisle…

Only to come face-to-face with Laurent, who pulled up short with a harsh squeak of his shoes.

Rather than looking flushed from the exercise, Laurent’s face was paper white and his eyes were positively enormous. He seemed astonished to see Damen standing before him and Damen noticed his hands were empty. Damen shifted the dough to one hand so he could steady Laurent with the other.

“Laurent! Are you all right? Was the spinach that expensive?”

Laurent gasped a little and a nervous laugh burst out of him. “The _spinach_? You think I ran…for _that_?” Damen was about to make another comment when Laurent interrupted. “ _Fuck the spinach_! Where did you go? Why did you lea---?” Laurent caught himself and immediately flushed a deep red from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones.

Damen understood in that moment.

In their time together he had never left Laurent alone without ample prior warning. It was foolish to think that anyone could kidnap Damen without the aid of some very strong drugs, but he felt a twinge of guilt in letting Laurent panic. It hadn’t been his intention…

Laurent began speaking very quickly and tried to maneuver out of Damen’s grasp in order to hide his obvious embarrassment. “No, no I just---It’s not very _professional_ of you to just wander off, so then I thought---no, it’s just foolish of me to even think that you would---I’m not _used_ to being---.”

Damen interrupted smoothly by releasing Laurent’s arm and taking his hand instead. As opposed to usual, his hand was flaming hot with his shame in making a mistake. “Laurent. No one followed us here. Aside from you and Nikandros, no one else on earth knows I own this place. That’s why I consider it a safe house. You,” Damen took stock of that pretty blush and felt a small rush of indignation that Laurent had not felt safe being alone in so long, “You don’t need to be afraid. No one here is going to hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid.” Laurent whispered contrarily. Then he glanced up at Damen from underneath his lashes. “I…”

Damen felt as though he was about to fall.

Suddenly he felt as though he were standing on the edge of something and if he made a move…he might fall, helplessly. The world seemed to shift around him and he thought desperately of something else to focus on instead of the open, relieved beauty in front of him.

“Spinach?” He gasped and Laurent’s cheeks went pink.

He broke eye contact and this time when Laurent turned to go, Damen let him go. “Spinach…” He agreed sounding a little dazed. Damen watched him wander back to the farmer’s stalls feeling thunderstruck himself.

He tossed aside one package of dough without even looking to see which one he had chosen. It hardly mattered anymore.

 

It was odd to live in domesticity with Laurent and not to have the constant fear dogging them throughout the day.

Like the sword of Damocles---a continuous threat hanging above his life---that had now been removed, Laurent was still getting used to living freely. Small moments, like the one at the grocery, which would have been a normal habit in the city were unnecessary and foreign in their exile. Laurent would look for Damen instinctively when Damen meandered away to find his own enjoyments and he seemed to dislike the open quietness of Damen’s property. He was content to read on the pier for a short while, but the moment Damen wandered back inside, Laurent could not stand the silence and followed him in. He was much like a lab kitten, kept inside and cold and alone for so long and was now suddenly faced with a wide, open field. He did not know what to do with himself.

It was somewhat of a relief when dinner came around. Damen had something special planned for their first night of freedom.

He began to roll up his sleeves while taking out the ingredients and sneaking occasional glances at Laurent’s nape. “Do you want to help me with dinner tonight, Laurent?”

Laurent put down his current book---last summer’s bestselling mystery, which sat unread amongst a dozen other novels Damen had purchased to fill his bookshelves the previous summer---and wandered over to the kitchen and his imaginary tail flicked in curiosity. “What are we having?”

“It has lots of vegetables, I swear.” Damen smiled over his shoulder as Laurent’s hips brushed up against his legs. “It’s one of my favorite foods as well. Have you heard of _spanakopita_?” Laurent shook his head and Damen immediately set him to work chopping the leafy green bits so that they could fry them in an extremely generous amount of olive oil. Damen himself handled the sheets of dough, as they were…finicky.

It was called _phyllo_ and to keep the thin sheets from sticking together, Damen had to put a damp cloth between them until the filling was ready. Then, with even more olive oil, he brushed down a baking pan and turned to see how Laurent was doing with the vegetables.

He was currently trying to squeeze the excess liquid out of the spinach, as per Damen’s instruction but the movement was all wrong and his frustration was obviously building. He twisted the leaves venomously but with slippery hands and a very small liquid yield. Damen would have laughed at him, but he knew Laurent would be furious in response.

He knew Laurent would probably not want to accept help if he offered, so Damen physically inserted himself behind Laurent.

Laurent jumped as Damen’s chest pressed against his back and when he turned his head he had to look up or he would have been staring directly at Damen’s chest. “What…is all this?”

“I’d like to eat tonight.” Damen responded and Laurent flushed with his frustration. “We’ll be here all night if you wring out the spinach like that.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not going to take over,” Damen insisted, “Just let me show you how to do it, ok?” Technically he could have just taken a bundle and demonstrated over the sink but…he could not pass up a chance to hold Laurent’s hands in his own, which he did gently…so very gently. “Less with your fingers, more with the wrists and shoulders.” Oil and spinachy water poured over Laurent’s pale knuckles the moment Damen helped him twist.

Laurent glared up at Damen and Damen was overcome with the irrational urge to…to…

But he didn’t. Any irrational urges he pushed to the one rational part of his brain that kept his rules in place: _don’t fall for clients_. Instead, he released Laurent’s hands and went back to his baking pan. He had to work on making the _spanakopita_ delicious, which was mainly achieved by brushing every available surface with olive oil.

When Laurent had mixed the filling---spinach, parsley, yellow and red onion, garlic, dill weed, eggs, feta, and more olive oil---to Damen’s standards, they transferred it to the _phyllo_ -lined baking pan. Damen added more sheets of the paper-thin dough, a sprinkle of water and even more olive oil before tossing it in the oven to bake for an hour. Laurent looked quite pleased with himself and looked to Damen for his next set of directions.

“And what do we do while we wait?”

“Ah, that’s the fun bit.” Damen responded, grinning wide. “Follow me.”

Though being so close to the water’s edge had not allowed him to dig a proper basement, Damen had commissioned the builders---through a third party, of course, to retain anonymity---to install a cool, dry room where he could store a very good selection of his favorite wines. It was only wide enough for the two of them to fit, and only then if they did not try to pass one another. Laurent looked at the bottles, his fingers making swipes in the dusty glass.

“What are you feeling tonight?” Damen asked moving to his smaller selection of white wines. “Red wine goes better with meat so…I think maybe a light pinot grigio or moscato,” Damen was not partial to the overly sweet wines but he would make sacrifices for Laurent, “I may even have a blush wine that might pair well.”

Laurent chewed at his bottom lip. “I…erm…I don’t really mind either way. Wine is not a favorite of mine…”

Damen recalled then of their numerous meals, how whenever there was alcohol served Laurent played with the glass more than he drank. “I see…I’ll choose then.” Despite it being his least favorite, Damen’s fingers sought the lemony-chiffon colored bottles of expensive moscato.

Once back in the kitchen, he poured a little into two brand new wine glasses and raised a toast in Laurent’s direction.

“To a relaxing few days outside the city.”

Damen raised when Laurent did, and then drank deep. Though the wine was sweet enough to set his teeth on edge, it was undeniably a fine vintage and he looked forward to a second drink. Laurent sipped carefully and one golden eyebrow arched up in surprise.

“Good?” Damen asked, feeling a little smug that he knew more about something than Laurent. When Laurent took another hesitant sip without reply, Damen continued. “You don’t need to finish it if you don’t like it.”

“On the contrary…” Laurent said softly, “It’s not bad. Better than the stuff Auguste gives me.”

No compliment could have made Damen happier. Although it was probably due to the fact that Auguste served French foods, which paired well with the sharper red wines, he was pleased to have bested Auguste in any aspect. Laurent nursed his glass and accepted a second when Damen offered.

They talked of wine and drinking---Damen did most of the story telling, as he had done more wild drinking in his younger days---and Laurent flushed a little pinker, laughed a little sweeter with each passing glass of wine. By the time the _spanakopita_ was finished baking, the two of them had easily polished off the first bottle and Damen had uncorked the second.

While Laurent smoothly poured himself another glass, Damen removed the now flaky pie from the oven and let the familiar smell waft around him like an embrace. It was agony to wait for it to cool.

Damen moved the entire pan to the table, Laurent brought the wine, plates, and cutlery. However, before Damen began to carve into it, he had an idea. It was a special day after all: the first day in a while that Laurent could do as he liked without fear.

Before Laurent could protest, Damen brought out the lighter from his back pocket and lit the half dozen candles on the centerpiece of his dining table before flipping off the lights. It gave the dinner a rustic sort of charm. Laurent was predictably not impressed and rolled his eyes.

“A candlelit dinner? Should I be concerned about the contents of this wine?”

Damen was highly offended. “Since I am not scum, I would never do such a thing. I just thought…” The moscato had muddled his brain…or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself, “ _ambiance_ , you know?”

“Ambiance for what?” Laurent’s tongue was a little thicker than usual, a bit of a slur to his words. The flames gilded him and made his blue eyes look nearly black, the shadows curving along the planes of his face.

“Just wait until we eat, and you’ll see.” Damen insisted, cutting into the spinach pie with a satisfying crunch. The first outer slice he carved was given to Laurent and Damen nearly trembled with excitement as he served up one for himself. “If anything deserves candlelight, it’s this.”

Damen timed his first bite to coincide with Laurent’s.

It was not as good as his grandmother’s but Damen felt, with time, his would be equal. Even so it was fresh and savory, the crackery crust melting in his mouth once he bit into the creamy interior. It tasted like home, of memories and safety and… well, _love_. It tasted like love.

He could only deny himself a second bite for one moment, and it was spent gauging Laurent’s reaction. Laurent gave nothing away as he chewed gingerly and swallowed; Damen was practically holding his breath in anticipation for feedback which Laurent did not readily give.

“How is it?” He could not hold back any longer.

Laurent looked up at him, eyes blue-black and wide. Then he glanced back down and Damen was forced to rescind his previous thought. There _was_ a compliment that could make Damen happier than the knowledge that he was better than Auguste at something.

Barely audible, a little slurred, and very sweet, Laurent murmured. “This is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten…”

It made him feel warm the rest of the night.


	22. Day 21: The Milk and the Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT! Hit 100K words and 900+ comments! Thank you all for reading so much stuff that I've written ;) Also this has become my most subscribed-to story so I'm having a great time right now!  
> So, this chapter. All I'm going to say is that I hope you guys enjoy it and that it blindsides you as much as the canon event did for me. Came out of nowhere really!   
> Haha I'm also loving how you all are tensing up for the angst again ;) If you want to scream at me more about the next couple chapters and one comment does not suffice, by all means, pop on over to my tumblr! I can't wait to read your comments! Enjoy!

** Day 21: The Milk and Honey **

Damen panicked when he woke up on their second morning in the lake house and found Laurent pressed flush against his warm body, his renegade dick stiff at the familiar feeling of sleeping with…well, not a lover, per se, but someone special.

He and Laurent had stumbled back to bed after consuming three-quarters of the pan of _spanakopita_ and at least three bottles of wine. It had not been enough to make Damen blackout but he had been very loose upon going to bed and Laurent had actually swayed a little, being of a smaller frame and a weaker drinker. Even now he slept like the pleasantly drunk: limbs heavy and askew, his mouth open slightly, and obviously so deep in his dreams that nothing short of a small explosion would rouse him.

Damen yanking back, sending Laurent sprawling backwards onto the bed almost did the trick, as his eyes snapped open for a split second. He was still basically asleep but his face twisted into a mask of frozen fury. _Hiss hellcat_ , Damen thought.

But then Laurent’s eyes blinked closed and he fell back asleep.

This allowed Damen to slip out of the bed and go calm himself on the balcony. He did not actually touch his dick, but just allowed his whole body to relax as he watched the early morning sun over the lake. It also gave him time to think about his emotions.

Maybe it was being in this place that was full of bitter memories or that he was finally free to relax and not have to think about his company or the stalker or…one of his many problems. But suddenly he was overcome with the sickening feeling that Nikandros was right.

He was head over heels for Laurent and that was extremely dangerous in his line of work. It was one of his cardinal rules and…he couldn’t afford to break it. He hadn’t learned his lesson from her and he and Laurent had yet to ask each other their questions. It seemed like the magical illusion of safety would disappear when they did, like reality would set in and so the both of them had neatly avoided asking questions during their first day and night here. But it would come eventually and Damen…he wanted to be honest with Laurent. If Laurent asked him how he felt…or Damen was curious about how Laurent felt.

 _Why do you curl up next to me in your sleep? Does my presence keep the nightmares at bay? Or are you in love…with me?_ What would he do if Laurent said no? What would he do if Laurent said yes?

Damen pondered alone until he heard the sound of one of the French doors opening and a tuft of golden hair flashed in his peripheral vision.

Shit, he was a goner.

Even having Laurent by his side could elevate his mood and he smiled in spite of the stew of emotions roiling in his gut. Laurent’s hair was tamer than yesterday but it still stuck up in the back. He looked irritated as he bumped his shoulder against Damen’s. Rather than trying to move Damen out of the way, it seemed more like a cat needling for attention.

“Are you hungover?” Damen asked glancing over.

Laurent turned his attention over to the view of the lake. “I’m not _that_ much of a lightweight. But I don't take well to being jostled in my sleep.”

Damen grinned apologetically. “I’m sorry. I…was a bit surprised this morning.” Luckily by then his cock had behaved and he was completely in control of himself. “And y--it looked so beautiful…I had to step outside.”

“Mmm.” Laurent mumbled by way of agreement. “And what will we be doing today?”

Damen thought for a moment and what he had planned was dangerous for his unstable emotions, but…

The day promised to be lovely; already it was warm and cloudless, though there was a small breeze to counteract the heat. Where he wanted to go would be perfect as well. It was the season when everything would be fresh and wild and at the very peak of beauty. Imagining Laurent in the midst of it all, Damen felt a little dizzy, the same feeling he had had the previous day. In his mind’s eye, everything was gilded and it was hard to stay practical, hard to remember his somber feelings as the gold chased it away.

“Well we need to run into town again to get groceries,” Damen admitted, as they only bought enough to cook for the day. Although there was some leftover ingredients, “But before we do that, I thought…well there’s somewhere I’d like to take you. I assure you, it’s very,” his throat became very dry, “ _beautiful_.”

Laurent gave him an arch look, although his mouth twitched a bit. “I assume by the vague details you are giving that the particulars of this place are a secret?”

“Yes,” Damen could not help but smile in return over how transparent he was. “You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

 

Laurent was much more relaxed this time when they rode the motorcycle to the foothills, where the forests thinned into wide grassy hills and the occasional small lake. These hills were special.

“You’ve never been out here before?” Damen called back to Laurent over the sound of the wind.

“No,” Laurent had to exert less effort to be heard, since his mouth was quite close to Damen’s ear. “My family rarely took vacations and it was usually to the mountains for skiing. Believe it or not we don’t do well under the summer sun on the beach,” Damen imagined he would blend in to the sand if he ever saw fit to remove his clothes, “And this area was not…affluent enough for my grandfather’s tastes. Besides…the company is basically my family’s life.”

“Not you,” Damen pointed out. “The prodigal son.” Laurent snorted. “Well…it can be a well-kept secret.”

Laurent remained silent at that thought and didn’t speak again until Damen directed the bike down the long, dirt road that led downhill. Much like a fancy vineyard, there were enormous hedges that flanked the road and a ranch house at the end of the path. They were greeted by the sound of barking as they pulled up closer to the house.

Two small shepherd dogs skidded to a halt as Damen parked the motorcycle in a small, packed circle of earth that was meant to be a small parking lot. Though they were wary of the motorcycle and of Damen, the two dogs wagged their tails and lolled adoringly around Laurent’s feet as he dismounted. He scratched them behind their perked ears and then looked to Damen for explanation.

“Where are we?”

Damen explained as they began to walk and Laurent’s eyes grew wide as they crested the top of the hill behind the ranch house, the dogs still determined to trip him until he gave them attention.

Damen called it a flower farm: endless fields of carefully cultivated blooms that were destined for perfumeries and flower shops, centerpieces in fancy hotels and the frothy bouquets of wedding parties. If visitors so chose, they could purchase bouquets or cuts of flowers for their own homes. But it gave the fields an alien beauty as they were dyed in long strips of yellow, red, pink, white, and many other shades in between. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers.

The wind whipped Laurent’s hair along with the blooms and Damen hardly knew what to focus on.

Laurent was giddy---by his standards at least---as he meandered down the dirt rows between the raised swathes of buttery yellow-white jonquils, multicolored anemones, tulips, and carnations, the gentle curling cones of the calla lilies, and the heady, sweet ocean of freesia. The little shepherd dogs bounced through the blooms, returning to Laurent whenever whistled for them. Damen was utterly enchanted at the sight of it.

Since he was familiar with the owner of the fields and knew he could purchase the individual blooms when they returned to the ranch, Damen lazily picked flowers from their stems and began to weave.

She used to make flower crowns and post pictures of them online. With slim, pale fingers roses and orchids had dripped from her golden waves and she had often asked Damen to help her make them. He plucked fat, peachy peonies and ranunculus, jonquils and carnations in varying shades of white and braided their fibrous green stems together with practiced hands. Before long he had a thick circlet in his hands approximating Laurent’s coloring: deep yellows, pale peaches and whites, and even a few sprigs of indigo freesia to compliment his eyes.

Laurent jumped a bit as Damen tossed the flower crown, Frisbee like, and it landed squarely on the top of Laurent’s head. It looked nice there.

He removed it and stared at Damen from amidst the nodding approval of several thousand Dutch tulips. “Did you make this?” Damen nodded and Laurent looked outraged, “You _picked_ the flowers?”

“I’m allowed!” Damen argued back.

Laurent glared at him with suspicious eyes but after careful contemplation of his gift, he grudgingly put the flower crown back on his head. Damen felt breathless at the sight. With the flower fields as the backdrop, Laurent looked like he had stepped out of a painting.

Not long after, the two of them encountered the proprietor of the flower farm.

Wearing a wide brimmed hat and carrying a large basket filled with the last of the red and white amaryllis, he grinned at the familiar sight of Damen and scratched the ears of his two dogs. “Ah here’s a familiar face. Long time no see Damianos. And…your friend, with the lovely circlet.”

Damen gave introductions, failing to mention that he and Laurent were bodyguard and client. Laurent was nothing but cordial, though he flushed a little at the mention of his flower crown.

“I’m pleased you enjoy my flower fields,” The man said, in response to a compliment of Laurent’s, already smitten with Laurent. “It seems my dogs have taken a liking to you. That’s unusual; usually they’re a bit more standoffish.” The dogs confirmed this by neatly avoiding Damen when he got too close. “If you like them---.”

“They’re sweet.” Laurent remarked, offering his knuckles and grinning victoriously at Damen when the dogs circled him with wagging tails.

“Well, if you like them, my girl just had her second litter of pups about a month ago.” Laurent immediately perked up at the mention of puppies and he shot a brief look at Damen that could only be described as pure and utter delight. “They’re up at the ranch. When you want to pay for your flowers, you can go up and see them.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before the owner of the farm excused himself to go deal with his flowers and Laurent had a look of determination on his face that Damen had never seen before. His gait was swift and Damen actually had to jog to keep up.

“Where are we going Laurent?” Damen asked, knowing full well where they were going.

“I…” Laurent was a little like Nicaise, not that he had to be contrary but because naturally he did not want anyone to know what he liked. But…he was changing a bit. “I want to go…see the…the dogs…”

The young girl working in the ranch was all smiles at the appearance of Laurent and Damen---looking a little amazed at the style and quality of the wreath of flowers on Laurent’s head--- and was more than pleased to show them to a little sunroom, cordoned off by a plastic baby gate and containing seven fuzzy shepherd pups.

“Hold this.” Laurent ordered, slapping his flowers into the center of Damen’s chest, never taking his eyes off of the brown, white, and black pups.

They mobbed Laurent when he entered their pen.

He had to sit to avoid stepping on any of them and they lolled around him adoringly, leaping in and out of his lap, jumping on his chest in an attempt to lick his face. Damen was too large for their tastes and they yapped at him in tiny anger when he attempted to join Laurent. He stayed on the other side of the gate as Laurent gloated.

“I suppose there are downsides---“ he had to pause because one of the bolder pups leapt up and licked his open mouth, “to being so huge. They really don’t seem to like you.”

Damen glared at the brown pup who was still watching him with suspicious eyes. “They remind me of Nicaise. So small and pissy.”

Laurent snickered at the comparison before something very much like fondness took over his features. “He…would like this wouldn’t he? To come outside the city. He’d punch you if you put flowers on him though…”

Damen smiled at the thought. “That little liar would bitch the whole time. But…maybe we could bring him next time.”

It was a dangerous thought, even in his own mind and Damen wondered if he should regret the words the moment they were out of his mouth. It was almost like a promise to return to this place and one that he did not know for sure if he could deliver on. Once the stalker was found, his and Laurent’s relationship would effectively be over and…and there would be no excuse to bring Laurent here again.

Damen felt a little twinge of pain as he saw Laurent smile, still covered in wiggling puppies.

Laurent seemed to ponder Damen’s statement and made a delighted little noise in his chest as one of the pups made an ungainly leap for his hair. “This place is…wonderful.” He ran his slim hands through fluffy fur, eyes sparkling. “When I…when I die, I hope it would be something like this.”

Damen thought about their day together, of Laurent framed by the endless fields of flowers, of the delight in his eyes when Laurent saw the dogs. He felt the flower petals brush his hands in a pale semblance of the feeling of Laurent’s skin. Not a bad way to spend eternity: safe and bright.

“You might get sick of me after a while.” Damen remarked easily. Laurent shot him a look of exasperated mirth but did not refute the thought of Damen being present in his idea of heaven.

Hope was a terrifying thing.

 

After leaving from the flower farm late in the afternoon, Laurent’s crown tucked securely in one of the side bags to keep petals from being stripped from stems in the wind, they stopped at a fruit orchard even further out. Even this late in the spring, not much fruit was available for purchase but there were some rosy-green nectar apples that Damen bought in a brown paper bag, tossing one at Laurent who caught it with surprising ease.

The apples tasted faintly of flowers beneath their juicy apple sweetness and Damen wondered in his mind if he had the skill enough to bake a tart or pie with the ones leftover. Laurent was quiet as he munched.

With their ingredients from the market, Damen prepared a pasta salad for dinner and Laurent did help him make an apple tart with their apples and the leftover sheets of _phyllo_. The tart was thin and crunchy as slices of pizzas, brushed with a glaze of lemon and butter and though it was delicious Laurent continued to eat in contemplative silence.

As they were cleaning dishes together, Damen saw Laurent study him once or twice with narrowed eyes and wondered, heart in his throat, if tonight were the night. If they were going to end a lovely day with a barrage of very personal questions…Damen held his breath.

But Laurent asked no questions.

And as the sun began to go down over the lake and the air became even hotter with the intensity, Laurent inspected the landscape with a discerning eye. “I think…I’m going to go read on the dock.”

“I’ll join you.” Damen said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

The few minutes were taken up with fetching a bottle of strong red Shiraz---two or three times stronger than the moscato from the previous night---from his ‘wine cellar’ alongside two glasses, though he fully expected Laurent not to drink. Laurent accepted half a glass and Damen drank the rest as they sat side-by-side and watched the sun go down. Damen turned on the outdoor lights when it got too dark for Laurent to read his book properly and Damen just relaxed in his deck chair and listened to the sound of the lake lapping against the dock.

With the effects of the wine and the muggy, summer-like evening air, Damen soon began to sweat, the beads of it swelling on his temples and upper lip. Honestly, he didn’t know how Laurent was looking so composed in the humidity.

Finally, with a carelessness that alcohol afforded, Damen made up his mind.

“What are you doing?” Laurent asked as Damen stood from his chair without warning.

“I’m hot.” Damen responded easily, “And I’m going to swim. Would you like to join me?” As if to drive home his resolution, Damen removed his shirt in one easy motion and tossed it carelessly on his empty chair, leaving his bare torso exposed to the warm night air.

Now that he looked closer, Laurent was a little flushed, though he averted his eyes and scoffed. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Eh, that’s not a problem,” Damen said with complete unconcern and Laurent looked at him in shock as he began to unbutton his trousers, “Just swim in your underwear; I have a washing machine here so we can clean them afterwards. Or…” Damen kicked his pants onto the chair as well, “you could do what I do.”

Without elaborating, Damen took a running jump into the cool surface of the lake and when he resurfaced he tossed the wet bundle up onto the dock as Laurent’s feet. It landed at Laurent’s feet with a wet slap and Damen felt a glorious feeling of freedom as he swam naked and unfettered. He laughed when he heard Laurent curse at his idea and throw his underwear back into the water.

Damen figured that was Laurent’s answer to the invitation to swim and began to do lazy laps in the cool water.

The water enveloped him in a pleasant, silky coolness and he stayed mostly submerged until he heard a loud splash and resurfaced in a panic. Laurent’s chair was empty, save for a small bundle of clothes and a book placed carefully on the top. The water at the end of the dock roiled from being disturbed and Damen paddled over to where the bubbles were drifting lazily to the surface.

There was a glimmer of pearl beneath the surface and Laurent surfaced with a laugh.

In the night and the blue-black water, Laurent stuck out as pale as he was. His gold hair was slicked back against his head and neck in a perfect crescent and his skin glowed in comparison to his surroundings.

He looked ethereal; the Lady in the Lake, the nymphs of old, a water creature white and strange and beautiful…

He grinned cheekily as Damen truly realized that he had joined him in the water. “This is more refreshing…I’ll admit it. Though I am not as… _wild_ as you are.” It was clear to see what Laurent meant as Damen got a better look at him. Laurent had kept his long-sleeved white undershirt on---though it was hardly noticeable as it matched the pallor of his skin---and his dark boxer briefs had not been removed either. Still, it was the most skin Laurent had ever willingly showed him and he was more than willing to admire the blurry glimpses of Laurent’s long legs as he treaded water. He was so dark, Laurent wouldn’t be able to see any part of his body past the surface of the water.

“I didn’t know you knew how to swim.” Damen joked and Laurent rolled his eyes.

Laurent lazily bobbed backward until he was lying flat on the surface of the water, his hair spreading out around him in a glistening fan. “Auguste took me to the sea one summer and taught me how. I think I prefer this though. It’s…calmer…” Laurent closed his eyes at the feeling and floated in peace for a while until Damen stealthily took hold of his ankle and gave him a quick tug down.

Laurent flailed for a moment after Damen released him and when he had righted himself, Laurent splashed in Damen’s general direction. “ _You fucker_!”

“Watch your language, Nicaise.” Damen responded, unable to control his giggles.

Laurent bubbled with laughter as he dove back under and Damen humored him, pretending to sink under the surface as he felt slim hands yank at his ankle. Laurent emerged with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who can pull on legs.”

Damen felt the words on his lips and they were too perfect to stop them. “That wasn’t my leg.” He had to dive away quickly to hide his laughter upon seeing Laurent turn red as a strawberry, his bare ass peaking the surface as he swam away. Underwater he heard a loud whoosh of water as Laurent attempted to splash him again.

Laurent was a surprisingly fast swimmer.

The two of them chased each other through the depths of the lake, attempting to tug the other under the water and disturbing the normally calm surface. Once, Damen caught hold of Laurent’s waist and nearly flung him into the air, whereupon he plunked into the water like a small white stone; he returned the favor by leaping out of the darkness and using his entire tiny weight to push Damen’s head down under the water.

Damen had just flipped Laurent, delighting in hearing his ungainly squawk of dismay, when Laurent did not resurface. Before becoming nervous, Damen waited, wondering if this was another trick Laurent was playing. He jumped as something tugged hard on his pinky toe.

A circle of bubbles began to rise directly in front of his chest and, unthinkingly, he made a circle with his arms around the bubbles. He saw the flash of white-gold and Laurent surfaced with a laugh that burst out of him in droplets of water. Despite his coloring and the chill of the water, Laurent’s cheeks were flushed pink.

He also seemed a bit out of breath from staying under so long and Damen gripped Laurent in case he was tired. His hands almost touched, Laurent’s waist was so small.

“Did you…think I had…been kidnapped?” Laurent laughed as he cleared stray strands of blond from his eyes. “You…jumped like the…devil.”

“Not for a moment.” Damen smiled in spite of himself. “I’d never let anything touch you.”

“ _You’re_ touching me.” Laurent pointed out, looking down at Damen’s hands. Then…a soft exhale, almost like a gasp. He looked back at Damen, eyes wide and dark, expression almost surprised. “You’re touching me…”

Damen saw it coming.

Laurent’s hands lightly rested on Damen’s forearms and he looked at Damen’s face as though he was seeing him, truly seeing him, scanning the eyes, tracing the wet veins of hair, down the bridge of the nose and the ridges of the cheekbones and jaw. And Damen _knew_ , he knew it, as Laurent’s eyes stopped squarely on Damen’s half-smiling lips; he could do nothing to stop it, most of him not wanting to stop it.

With a steadying breath to gather his courage, Laurent pushed himself forward until he was pressed flush against Damen’s chest and Damen froze up as he saw Laurent’s long eyelashes rest against his cheeks. A feeling like cool silk enveloped his mouth as he realized Laurent was kissing him.

 _Laurent was kissing him_.

It was not the fiery passionate kissing he was used to; the chill of the water, the cool smoothness of Laurent’s lips and body against his own made him shiver, but it was only with pleasure. Laurent was _kissing_ him. Against his own will, his eyes fluttered closed, one hand cupping the slick base of Laurent’s skull.

A hot tongue against his lips melted the kiss and Damen made a noise in spite of himself, opening his mouth. Laurent turned his head in response and his mouth also parted wider. More, _more_ , his mind demanded…

They were one being, the same temperature as Damen felt himself being sucked in, if only by the heat of Laurent’s mouth. He treaded water in time with the shy movement of Laurent’s lips and his free hand traced the slim planes of Laurent’s back. With the wet shirt on, he might as well have been unclothed.

In between the shallow kissing, Laurent had to pause for a fraction of a second to breathe and his breath was thick with the name. “ _Damianos_.”

It was a black curse that took hold of his mind and heart in that moment: the one rational part of his mind.

It was the part of his mind that heard Nikandros’ warnings and warred with him about how he would manage to control his company---the thing he wanted most?---with such a loose set of morals. It was the part of his mind that warned him not to let his business become personal, the part of his mind that heard her calling him by his full name and the rush of it was so painful that he pushed Laurent away from him in a wave of cold water.

Now it was cold, too cold; the water had given him goosebumps and absent of the heat of Damen’s lips, Laurent’s were taking on a lavender flush. They needed to get out of the water.

“Laurent,” Damen gasped. He felt as though he had been underwater just a few moments too long and his thoughts were blurry. “I---.”

Shock had been Laurent’s first emotion when Damen had pushed him an arm’s length away, but now that he had gotten over the unexpected turn, he realized that Damen had spurned him. Then there was a flicker of the most profound hurt before Laurent could catch himself and replace it with a mask of cold indifference.

“It’s cold.” Laurent remarked, turning away from Damen’s hands toward the dock. “I’m going inside.”

Damen let him go. It was all he could do.

When Laurent had smoothly gathered up his things and slammed the double doors behind him, Damen finally felt safe leaving the water as well. He could not locate the underwear that Laurent had tossed into the lake, so he simply climbed out in the nude. Letting himself air dry would give him time to think about his decision.

He stood on the end of the dock and wondered if it was worth it. To throw away his moral code and the safety of his own emotions---wondering if he could bear to have his heart broken again---was Laurent worth it?

Damen listened to the gentle rocking of the lake, fingers light his own lips. He didn’t like to admit it, but the kiss was still emblazoned there, the only warm spot on his otherwise ice-cold body.

 

The house was dark when Damen finally sorted out his emotions and made his decision. Despite Laurent’s righteous spite, Damen knew the layout of his house well enough to maneuver his way upstairs to the master bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on, providing a small halo of orange light in the utter darkness and it illuminated the gentle curve of Laurent’s torso and legs from where he was lying on the bed with his back to the door. Damen remembered how that body had felt in his hands, cool and smooth, and it only served to steel his resolve.

“Laurent.” His voice, he knew, was filled with emotion and Laurent heard it. His shoulders flinched.

Damen took his time. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the bed. “Laurent.” His heart pounded unevenly as he sat on the bed. “After a lot of thought I have…something I need to tell you.”

Laurent made no response and Damen lay prone on the bed, making sure to maintain a respectable distance between himself and Laurent. “Ok, you can just listen then. I’ll make it short.” He closed his eyes. “Laurent…I’m sorry about earlier and I just wanted to tell you…I love yo---.”

There was a swift movement from Damen’s right and suddenly Damen felt a weight on his stomach and those familiar cool lips crushing up against his with something akin to need. Damen opened his mouth to let Laurent in and his hands moved up instinctively to cup Laurent’s head and back.

In between kisses, Laurent insulted Damen with each breath. “You fucking idiot.” _Kiss._ “I fucking hate you right now.” _Damen licked Laurent’s upper lip_. “Indecisive asshole.” _Damen rolled so that Laurent was cradled beneath him and he kissed Laurent deep enough for twenty-one days’ worth_. Laurent was pink when he looked up at Damen. “You drive me crazy.”

Damen smiled. “But…you love me.” Laurent made no response but his expression gave him away. He kissed Laurent’s forehead, down the elegant slope of his nose, one kiss for each pale brown freckle on Laurent’s cheek. “And I love you.”

More than his company, more than his morals, more than Nikandros’ valued opinion. More than he feared having his heart broken again. “I love you.”


	23. Day 22: The Hard Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. First of all, so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter! That being said...  
> THIS CHAPTER HAS TRIGGER WARNINGS! So read the ones in my tag and keep it in mind, ok? I don't know how to go into much detail about all the stuff that has happened in the past of both Damen and Laurent without making it too much...so I hope I made stuff clear without being too explicit!  
> This chapter has a little bit of everything as far as emotions go and I can honestly say, the last part is one of my favorites I have written in this story so far ;)  
> Only 8 chapters left and we are in the home stretch! I wonder if anyone knows who the stalker is at this point...Only a few more chapters and all of you will find out! As always thank you for your constant support and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> (ALSO: shout out to @blondesinvere on tumblr for making gorgeous fanart of last chapter; if you're interested, you should go check it out!)

** Day 22: The Hard Truth **

Damen dreamt of butterfly wings.

Lying in the field of flowers he felt the wings brush against his cheeks and forehead, down his nose and over his lips. He was almost sinfully happy for reasons he could not remember, but it felt like he was made of liquid sunlight. He could barely move; it was that languorous, after-lovemaking feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a good long while.

Heavy as feathers, the butterflies landed on his shoulders and seemed to melt, running rivulets of cold colors down the planes of his chest. He smiled and knew he looked foolish.

“ _Damianos_.”

The voice was crystal clear and thrust through the warm haze of his dreams. Just the sound of his name was enough to make him open his eyes and he awoke to an even better dream.

Laurent was gilded in the light of the early morning. His sheet of golden hair was a prism of sunlight in every shade of gold and yellow and white that nearly blinded Damen because Laurent was so close…and _so_ beautiful. The butterfly wings on his face, he realized, were the tips of Laurent’s hair and his lips, tracing the lines of Damen’s face, the curve of his lips; the colors running cool lines down his chest were Laurent’s fingertips, making unthinking patterns that caused Damen’s nipples to harden. When he saw Damen’s eyes were open, Laurent gave a smile so sweet and self-conscious that Damen wanted to groan with desire.

Instead he smiled goofily and hooked his right arm around Laurent’s neck, pulling him down for a deeper kiss. Laurent had apparently grown tired of soft kisses on Damen’s face as he was quite liberal with using his tongue this time around.

“You’re up early.” Damen said breathlessly when they separated. Laurent’s head was still so close that Laurent’s hair made a curtain of gold around his face.

“You wouldn’t believe how much earlier I can wake up when I get consistently good sleep.” Laurent said; still unsatisfied, he kissed the tip of Damen’s nose. “Also it’s hard to get up and do anything when you hold me as tight as you do…” He did not sound at all upset about this arrangement as Damen realized his left arm had Laurent’s waist in a vice grip.

“My apologies.” He was not at all sorry.

He wanted to pull Laurent back against him as he remembered distinctly the night before nodding off to sleep with his hands in Laurent’s hair, legs braided together, and his tongue halfway to Laurent’s throat. But Laurent was obviously very shy now that there was no blanket of night to shield his expression from view and was subtly trying to maneuver away. Damen let him go after one more kiss.

Laurent rose from the bed to move to the bathroom and Damen watched him with a warm feeling of love and possessiveness. He could not help himself. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent flushed scarlet to his collarbones and escaped to the bathroom, too flustered to respond.

When he emerged, teeth brushed and hair combed, Damen was still lounging on the bed with his arms open in invitation. Laurent flushed deep again but he walked over to the bed with blazing red ears and perched himself just far enough away that Damen could not get a hold of him. Damen reached out and took Laurent’s hand instead, weaving their fingers together.

“We didn’t get to…talk much last night.” Damen said, and felt himself flush when he remembered what they had been doing instead. “I have a lot of questions.”

“I do too…” Laurent admitted, looking up from under his eyelashes. The effect was devastating and Damen felt his mouth go a little dry. Very slowly---to give Laurent time to escape if he so chose---Damen moved over and up to run his lips over the ridge of Laurent’s jaw, still unable to truly grasp that this beauty loved him. Laurent shivered under his touch.

He was a most attractive shade of blush when Damen moved away, and Damen curled strands of hair behind Laurent’s ear. “You are positively breathtaking.” He knew his voice sounded raw with emotion, but he didn’t care.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Laurent murmured accusingly, touching his cool fingertips to the back of Damen’s hand. “You’re so…attractive it makes me furious.”

Damen wanted to crush him in a hug for that, but he held back. Something about Laurent’s standoffish personality made him want to take things gentle and slow. But at least now he was less apprehensive about their inevitable question session, now that he knew Laurent liked him enough to kiss him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Don’t gloat!” Laurent snapped, though he flushed darker. Damen responded by taking Laurent’s hand and kissing his palm. His wrist was pulsing with a wild heartbeat and he grinned into the silky, soft skin.

“Questions can wait. Let’s wait until tonight and enjoy our day.”

Damen fully intended to return at some point the next day so that they could make the Sunday deadline and it was even more pressing when Damen checked his secure email after breakfast to see an email from Nikandros that simply read: ‘ _We need to talk when you come back_ ’. Damen wondered if Nikandros had an extra sense for when Damen was making bad decisions or if he had truly discovered something alarming, but either way…it could wait until tomorrow. For now, he wanted to enjoy the day with Laurent and kiss him and not have to worry about anything from the outside world.

He and Laurent prepared vegetables for sandwiches and packed them inside square Tupperware boxes, alongside English muffins, cold chicken, and a variety of condiments that constituted their picnic lunch. For most of the late morning and early afternoon, the two of them traced the forest around Damen’s lake and found a grassy bare patch near the opposite lake shore to assemble their sandwiches and eat lunch.

Laurent’s kisses tasted like tzatziki sauce as he begged very effectively for a second trip to go see the shepherd pups. Damen promised, kissing the corners of Laurent’s mouth, that they could visit before leaving to go back to the city the next day.

For the late afternoon, to beat the heat of the day, Laurent and Damen swam again with distinctly less dunking than the day before. However, it was quite often that Damen would see that flash of white from beneath the surface and reach his hands down to pull up Laurent or dive under to kiss under the guise of ‘sharing air’. Laurent had no complaints.

He was not nearly so bold as the night before, but when he eventually parted his mouth to allow for deeper kissing, Damen couldn’t help but notice that Laurent pressed up against Damen so that his slim figure was flush with Damen’s. Damen couldn’t wait until Laurent felt comfortable enough to swim with him unclothed but…baby steps.

There was no mention of asking questions until a little after dinner.

The idea of questions, this ritual that had gone so long undone, and all the things that hung unanswered between them made the air heavy with anticipation as Damen fetched a metal bucket of crushed ice, glasses, and a few bottles of wine. Laurent gathered up blankets and pillows and candles as the two of them migrated to the end of the dock and built a small nest. The sky was still a little pale violet from the sunset and, judging by the heat and the symphony of frogs and crickets, tonight would be a prime time for fireflies.

Damen settled into the blanket circle first, his heart fluttering as Laurent sat directly in front of him, his cold toes slipping under Damen’s legs.

Damen poured the white wine first; they would work their way up to the stronger reds. It was unspoken, but accepted that neither one of them wanted to do this completely sober and Laurent took his glass without complaint, although he eyed it tentatively.

“What should we drink to?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Damen set down his glass to lean forward for a kiss, which Laurent gladly gave. He gave his most reassuring smile, despite his pounding heart. “I love you. I don’t need anything else; maybe a toast to your lips?”

“I’ll dump this wine in your lap,” Laurent warned, obviously flustered. But he drank, as did Damen, until the glass was empty.

It wasn’t until the third glass of wine that the questions began.

“Shall I start?” Damen asked, straightening up as the warmth of wine pooled in his stomach. “What’s your favorite color?” Laurent choked a little on his current mouthful of wine and some dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“W-What? Why do you _care_? Why is that your first question? I don’t…think I can do this while facing you.” He laughed when he had finally composed himself. “Here.” With some maneuvering, he adjusted himself and Damen so that they were sitting back to back, as they had been in the library…it hadn’t been long ago, but it felt like ages had passed.

“Favorite color.” Damen demanded once Laurent was all but out of his line of sight.

“Ugh. _Fine_. It’s…blue.” He spoke as though he had never thought about it before this moment. “Happy?”

“Yes. Mine is red, in case you were wondering. Now your turn.”

“We are starting out with meaningless banter then?” Laurent asked, technically as his first question, but Damen was not an asshole and didn’t respond to it. “Ok. Who was your first kiss?” Damen felt himself flush and break into a cold sweat at the same time. Awkward questions: _Damen-0, Laurent-1_.

“Ah. Erm…” Damen did not like to think about previous lovers when he was with a current one, but…he also didn’t like to deny Laurent anything. “When I was ten it was with a daughter of one of my father’s clients and, to be fair, _she_ kissed _me_.” Laurent giggled at his hasty addendum and Damen was filled with adoration at the sound. “And you?”

Laurent bristled and his back heated up in a way that Damen thought meant he was flushed with embarrassment. His mumbled reply was almost inaudible so Damen asked him to repeat. The answer burst forth from Laurent in self-conscious shout: “ _You_ are! Ok? You were…” back to mumbling, “…my first kiss…”

Damen’s heart flipped over at the thought. “Really? Your first---?”

“If you say one more thing, I’m going inside.” Laurent hissed and Damen began to curse himself inwardly. If he’d have known…it was Laurent’s first kiss, he would have been more gentle, more romantic, more… _everything_. There would be plenty of time for him to amend that later.

“When did you fall in love with me Laurent?” Damen asked, when Laurent had relaxed a little more.

Laurent leaned hard against him, obviously reluctant to admit the truth. But he and Damen had come to some unspoken agreement to be transparent with each other and Laurent was more honorable than Damen first gave him credit for. “I…don’t know when it happened _specifically_ but…I think I first realized when you…when you held me that first night and I had no paralysis.”

“I _held_ you?” Damen asked incredulously. He remembered no such occasion save for last night.

“Of course,” Laurent scoffed, “you slept like the dead. It was…the first night I let you sleep in my bed.” Damen felt his heart beat unevenly as he thought back to that night, of his dream of blonde hair in his fingers and his lips resting against the pulse of a soft neck. That had been _Laurent_? “After that…when you read to me in the library and I thought…that you might leave me, I realized…how much more… _fun_ my life is with you there. And when…you told me that night that you were going to stay with me…I felt so relieved and… _safe_ …” Damen ached to turn around and kiss him, though he doubted Laurent would relish the interruption. Plus he would miss whatever lovely things Laurent had to say next. “I…didn’t really know what the emotion was until…it was too late.”

Damen laughed. “You make it sound like a disease.”

“It is, as far as I’m concerned.” Laurent responded, and there was a smile in his tone. “When my head gets hot for no reason and my heart beats too fast and…I can’t think of anything when you…” He trailed off then, and Damen was glad for it, or otherwise his heart might have literally given out. “And you?”

“When did I start to love you?” Damen asked, “Umm…this is even more embarrassing but probably when you skidded out that morning to see your brother and then beat him in an argument not a half hour later.”

“You mean the first day we met?” Laurent sounded torn between shock and laughter.

“Yeah.” Damen sipped wine and it did not help his flush. “I thought then, my god Damen, this man is half your size and can reduce Auguste to sounding like an uneducated fool? I have never been so attracted to someone in my entire life.” Laurent slapped him in the shoulder playfully. “I love you Laurent. I love how intelligent and driven you are. How strong you are.”

“Now I _know_ you’re being ridiculous.” Laurent sighed, leaning against Damen. “It’s…difficult to feel in control sometimes. Sometimes the fear…” He shook his head then to stop the wine from making him say something foolish. “Which begs the question. If you hate my brother so much…why did you take up his job offer?”

Damen looked up, hoping for stars to fix his attention. No such luck. It was still too early.

“God. I don’t even know myself. We parted on such bad terms and now I don’t think either of us can even pretend to be civil but,” Damen remembered Auguste’s impassioned, desperate face that first night “…he came to me when I needed a way out, when I was stuck. And he looked so…so _desperate_ in that moment I just thought, what the hell, I’ll help him. Shit, he’s gonna kill me when he finds out you’ve fallen for my charms.”

“Shut up!” Laurent laughed. “You fell first!” Damen could hardly argue. “Why didn’t you…approach me?”

“In my industry we do our best not to date clients. Things can get… _tricky_ when we bring such strong personal emotions into a job. And, to be fair, you are exceptionally good at hiding your emotions.”

“Years of practice,” Laurent whispered.

The questions stopped for a little while after that. The two of them finished off the second bottle of white wine and Damen popped open the stronger bottle of red wine. His fingers tingled and his tongue felt loose in preparation of more questions. There were a few fireflies that flickered out of the taller grass close to the edge of the forest. Laurent was growing warmer, pressed against him.

The warmth must have made him bold, for Laurent’s next question cut right to the quick. “Who is she, Damianos? Your brother’s wife. Who is she?”

Damen drained the glass. He’d need it.

“She…her name is Jokaste. She is the daughter of one of our clients and…the reason I have a rule not to date clients.” Like slipping into a familiar pair of shoes, Damen delved into the memories he had tried so hard to force down. “I met her when I guarded her father briefly for an event and…I asked her out the moment I saw her. And we dated almost two years. I…I _loved_ her.” There was something painful and freeing about saying it.

“Kastor.” Laurent whispered, his whip-quick mind already assembling the pieces of information Damen had given him in the past.

The shoes were tight, painful, uncomfortable, but Damen kept going. “I was going to ask her to marry me. At some point anyway. I was a bit of a workaholic and I hadn’t seen her in a while but…when I came home she was…with Kastor…in our bed.” _The fall of gold over the pillow, the heat of the room, Kastor’s smile, her indifference_ …

“I’m sorry.” Laurent murmured.

“Broke my heart.” Damen admitted, his voice more watery than he would have liked. “I threw them both out, screamed at Kastor in the office the next day and ran away to this house for a month. Then when I came back I made a mistake with my next client. It was all the excuse he needed to push me down to the most menial position in the company, saying I…I wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. I’ve been trying to work my way back up ever since and with our father in the hospital, I’ve been trying to patch things up with Kastor. Soon…he might be all I have left. Even if he is married to the woman I used to love…”

“You don’t have to do that!” Laurent snapped, his tone filled with unusually fiery passion. “You don’t have to forgive toxic people in your life, god! If I didn’t want to hit your brother so badly, I’d hit you!” Then, in a softer tone. “I’m sorry…that they’ve betrayed you like this.”

“I should have…done more…”

“Bitch doesn't deserve you.” Laurent slurred angrily under his breath.

“You sound like Nikandros.”

“I rescind my previous statement.”

“Thank you though.” Damen said, leaning his head back so it was rested on top of Laurent’s. “It actually feels kind of nice to tell someone else about all of this…” He could hardly tell his coworkers, aside from Nikandros. He never realized how…lonely it had made him feel.

“You never told anyone?” Laurent asked. “You kept all this inside?”

“I don’t want to go to a therapist.” Damen prickled at the thought. “I’m strong, I can handle all of this on my own. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“I’m sorry I’m weak, incapable and pitiful.” Laurent shot back, obviously hurt.

“Shit, no,” Damen almost turned around to face Laurent but stopped himself. Never had he had to put these feelings into words before. “It’s not that, it’s just…I feel like if I go to therapy it would mean that…what they did _got_ to me. That they not only broke my heart but…also affected my mind. It would be too much. Like they won and all I can do is pick up the pieces…”

“I think it takes a lot of strength to get help.” Laurent whispered. “It hurts more when…your own family injures you.”

“Maybe someday. I mean, this isn’t bad, talking with you. Sometimes I’m jealous Auguste loves you so much.” Damen admitted. “He really…cares about your well-being.”

“He’s too overprotective.” Laurent scoffed and looked up at the sky, taking in deep gulps of air. “After…after everything…”

Damen let him compose himself before he went for his next question.

“Laurent…why do you hate having your picture taken?” It was something that had bothered Damen ever since Paschal had mentioned it to him and…since all bets were off on this question session… “You don’t have to say if you don’t want.” He amended as Laurent stiffened behind him.

“No.” Laurent’s voice was steel. “No, you were honest with me and…I-I trust you. Just…give me a moment…”

Damen gave him more than a moment.

In the meantime, he watched the fireflies. There were more of them now and it was therapeutic to watch them hover lazily as he got his emotions back in order. Only two tears escaped his control but he wiped them away quickly. When Laurent spoke it was barely audible over the sound of nature.

“There are photos…somewhere of me and…they are… _compromising_. I always…have this fear that they’ll be sent to my s-school or…my future employer. Seeing a camera focused on me now…stresses me out…”

Damen felt a small rush of indignation. “Your nudes got hacked?”

“No…” Laurent whispered and his next words made the wine sour in Damen’s stomach. “They were taken…without permission…six years ago.” Damen did the math and it was a struggle not to violently leap to his feet or vomit. Things were starting to connect in his head. “I…I’m s---It’s hard to discuss…”

Damen’s throat felt raw. “You don’t need to apologize. Was it…?” He couldn't even put his tangled thoughts into words or put a name to who had done such a thing. He knew who it was.

But Laurent must truly have trusted him; the wine probably helped out as well, for Laurent spoke softly and for longer than Damen had ever heard him speak before. It was too bad the subject topic was about Laurent’s first psychologist---his own family member, whom he had gone to for help with anxiety---and the years of torment that had come about as a result. There was no detailed description but, Laurent’s halting voice and painful pauses were enough for him to understand what had been in front of him for so long, to understand why it was so violating for Laurent to see photos of himself naked in his own bathroom and why he went to see Paschal. Damen underwent an alarming range of emotions as he listened and comprehended what was being said: horror, sickness, guilt, sorrow so profound that he didn’t even bother to try and hold back his tears, and underneath it all, a current of black, hot rage that was unparalleled to anything else he had ever felt before. His own situation paled in comparison and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

“It stopped at fifteen,” Laurent trailed off his thoughts and his voice was even less than a whisper now; Damen couldn’t help but think ‘ _just like Nicaise_ ’, “And I panicked. I told Auguste and he…he…”

Everything was coming together.

Auguste had nearly failed his college finals, abandoned them in return to be with his brother. The times when he and Laurent had trailed off in their conversations, as though they could not bear to say what was on the tips of their tongues, the protectiveness was explicable now…

“The candy?” Damen was breathless, now trying to remember every interaction he had ever had with Laurent, to find the things he had foolishly missed.

“At one point…I tried to gain weight.” Laurent replied. “I thought…if I did…people wouldn’t touch me. ‘Defensive weight’ Paschal calls it…and I guess I wasn’t the only one because…” Laurent looked pained and Damen remembered in painful glimpses: _the bowl of candy, Nicaise desperately piling on sugar, ‘treatment’_. “He only made me hate eating…made me eat candy while…” Laurent stopped because his voice wavered on the edge of something. “I’ve really hated food ever since…”

Damen remembered a thrown candy tossed in the gutter and he seethed. “But…you eat what I cook.”

“It’s… _different_.” Laurent protested. “Your food is warm and…it tastes good and I enjoy making it with you. I…I can’t explain it but…I don’t feel sick when I eat…what you cook for me…” Under any other circumstance, Damen would have been glowing with the praise but he couldn’t over the indignity, the fury of someone hurting Laurent in such a way.

“Did you and Auguste tell your father?”

Damen thought he was angry before. It was nothing compared to how he felt after Laurent’s next statement. With more hurt in his voice than Damen had ever heard, Laurent said. “Of course we did. Well, Auguste did…when he had to answer for why he missed his exams. My father…he only really cares about appearances and how…it will affect the company. So he…told Auguste to let it go…and took me out of therapy. Even now…he sweeps any potential lawsuits under the table to…save face. It’s…”

Laurent did not get to finish his sentence.

He sounded so crushed by even the memory of it, that Damen stood and Laurent fell backward. The last time he had felt such fury was when he had found Kastor with Jokaste, and even then, it was nothing in comparison to this anger. His step was heavy as he walked off the dock.

Stun gun was on the left, actual gun was on the right and Damen, in his haze, felt that this situation warranted the actual gun. He unclipped it from his holster and emptied every bullet into the trunk of an oak tree about a hundred paces from him. But it wasn’t enough. There was another magazine in his back pocket and he shoved it in immediately after the first was empty. More bullets unloaded into the tree and Damen cursed himself that he had not brought out his entire arsenal, because thirty bullets were not enough for him at the moment. When the gun clicked uselessly, Damen just let it drop to the ground and walked back to Laurent. His ears were ringing, eyes watering.

Laurent’s eyes were huge, his mouth slightly open in shock as Damen joined him. “Are you in the habit of shooting trees in the middle of conversations?”

“I pretended it was…someone else.” Damen said gruffly, preparing to sit back down.

“Thank god. For a moment, I thought…” Laurent looked away and Damen saw all that he had thought flicker across his face. He thought Damen had been leaving in disgust, disgust of him. His heart clenched and Laurent jumped as Damen slid his hands so that he was cupping Laurent’s cheeks.

Gently he tilted Laurent’s head up so their eyes met. “I…don’t want to sit back to back anymore.” Laurent nodded in agreement.

When they rearranged themselves, Damen was sitting cross-legged, his arms wrapped around Laurent’s chest as Laurent lounged on his lap. They didn’t say much for a good long while, though Damen made sure to occasionally kiss the top of Laurent’s head as they watched the fireflies.

When Laurent finally relaxed against him, Damen felt safe hazarding another question. “Laurent, why did you decide to sponsor Nicaise?”

Laurent leaned his head into the hollow under Damen’s throat. “I…When I found out my uncle might have been…hurting other patients aside from me…and getting away with it, it…made me _furious_. At first I wanted to just kill him, but…that’s not good enough. I want him shamed, his name dragged through the mud; I want _everyone_ to know what kind of monster he is. I decided to study law and the first thing I want to do after I graduate is file suit against my uncle. I know my statute of limitations has run out but…I can get him for the photos…and the malpractice and soliciting a minor. But I need witnesses and…I have to do it secretly so…my father and uncle won’t find out. When I heard about Nicaise…First, I wanted to get him out of his situation; I hate when people take advantage of kids, even if he is a snappy bitch. But also I can have him as a witness with proof, along with Aimeric.”

“Aimeric too?” Damen gasped; was there a possible link here? “Was Erasmus a victim of your uncle as well?”

Laurent smiled up at him, but it was a little sad. “You came to same conclusion Auguste and I did. No…Erasmus wasn’t even in our city when he was the…right age.” The disgust was clear in Laurent’s voice when he said it. “I would like to think my uncle is the stalker but…it just doesn’t make any sense. He prefers manipulation to violence and…we’re all too old…”

Damen ran one hand through Laurent’s soft hair. “Thank you…for telling me this. It must have been…” It must have taken more inner strength than Damen could possibly imagine. Secretly, he thought to himself that if Laurent’s future lawsuit did not work out, he would personally hire someone to dismember Laurent’s uncle.

“Paschal told me…that you were a trustworthy man. That you wouldn’t care about…how dirty---.”

“You’re not dirty.” Damen interrupted, possessively cradling Laurent. “Absolutely not.”

They were quiet a bit longer. Then Laurent laughed, seeming a little surprised that he could laugh after such a conversation. “When Auguste hired you…you didn’t remember I existed, did you?”

“No.” Damen admitted, squeezing Laurent a little tighter. “Did you remember me?”

The tops of Laurent’s ears flushed red. “Ahh…yeah, actually I lied to you about that. I do remember you from back when you and Auguste were friends. And…I always…wanted you to… _like_ me…” It took a moment for the words to sink in and then Damen felt the full force of Laurent’s blush.

Then he couldn’t help himself. The warmth of the wine and the love he felt for this man in front of him was too much. Laurent laughed as Damen planted messy kisses up and down his neck and face.

“Damianos! _Damianos_!” Laurent gasped in between his laughs. “Stop you hellho---.”

Damen pulled back in surprise. “What did you call me?” Laurent flushed and attempted to look away, but Damen wouldn’t let it go. “Laurent, what did you call me just now?”

Biting his lip and blushing furiously, Laurent finally told Damen. “Sometimes when we’re together and you sit in the sun or we go outside or you see me come in the room,” (Laurent flushed even deeper at that), “I swear…I can see your tail wagging. So…sometimes, in my mind, I call you ‘hellhound’…Don’t you _dare_ laugh!”

Damen could only sit in stunned silence.


	24. Day 23: The Return Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, it's time to leave the lake house and I'm so happy for the positive response this mini-arc has gotten! Now I can get back to the action ;)  
> First, I LOVE Pallas and Lazar and I will look for any excuse to put them in a story of mine. No drama, no angst, just pure physical lovin' with those two. They are a refreshing breath of air.   
> Second, this chapter is a little shorter than usual but I will more than make up for it next chapter because...some intensity is heading your way ;) The last bit of this chapter is a little emotional but I think you all will like it!  
> Finally, only 6 chapters left! I can't believe it! Thank you all for your support and I can't wait to start some new stories for you all ;) Enjoy!

** Day 23: The Return Home **

Laurent had sleep paralysis that night and Damen realized the mysterious dream monster that they could not seem to escape. And for a while Damen could only sit in silence as Laurent calmly held up a hand and shook his head. He was in no mood to be held or soothed at the moment and so Damen fantasized at length about kicking Laurent’s uncle repeatedly in the dick until Laurent leaned up against him.

“Can we go outside…for a bit?” Laurent asked and his voice was a little raspier than usual. It almost sounded like he had been crying, but Damen knew better. Laurent would never let himself cry.

“Sure.” Damen would have carried Laurent to roof, if it made Laurent feel one iota better. “Do you want me to turn on the lights? It’s pitch black out there…”

“No. Leave it.”

Damen lounged on one of the balcony chairs with Laurent curled up in a tiny ball on his lap. Now that he was even closer with Laurent, he felt comfortable scratching him gently behind those fuzzy, golden, hellcat ears he only saw in his mind. Laurent leaned into his hand.

“There are so many stars.” Laurent murmured as Damen was beginning to nod off.

“Can’t see this many in the city.” Damen agreed with a grunt. “Too many lights.”

“Do…we have to go back?” Damen looked down as Laurent looked up. “We could stay here…just a little longer.” Damen relished the thought as he took Laurent’s hand a carefully kissed each finger.

“I would love to. But I would also hate for you to miss school and any further progress on your revenge.” Laurent chuckled a little bit at that. “We cannot stay forever and I…promised Nikandros and Auguste I’d have you back by Sunday. But…in summer I can bring you back as often as you like.”

“That…sounds nice…”

Damen nuzzled his face into Laurent’s downy yellow hair as he began to fall asleep again. “I’ll take you home…and I won't let anyone touch you. Except for me.”

Laurent giggled, burying his face into Damen’s chest. “Yes Damianos. Only you.”

The two of them fell asleep like that on the balcony and Damen awoke at sunrise to find his muscles stiff and any exposed bit of skin covered with a fine sheen of dew. Laurent had been protected from this by burrowing under the blanket, still fast asleep on Damen’s chest.

Since they had had a draining evening and an interruption in the middle of the night, Damen let Laurent sleep a little longer than usual. The sun was a little higher in the sky before Damen removed the blanket and kissed Laurent awake.

One blue eye opened. “I was having a good dream, you know…”

“Trust me. Being awake is better in my opinion.” Damen replied, peppering Laurent’s face with kisses. “Plus I want to go back to those flower fields with you. Wake up Laurent.”

Laurent awoke reluctantly after a long while and more kisses. They put off packing until after the flower fields and Damen stood to make breakfast as usual as Laurent went for a shower.

“What would you like to eat?” Damen asked as Laurent picked up one of the towels.

Laurent gave him a look that was unreadable. “Something…sweet.”

Damen’s heart pounded at that. It was too much to think that all of their problems could be solved over one conversation and three bottles of wine but…he thought it wouldn’t be so bad in the future to go to therapy with Laurent and face their fears together…as a team. Still, his hands shook as he made the French toast quite sweet and placed the plate in front of Laurent.

He had made pancakes, muffins in the past but he had toned down the sweetness, as per Laurent’s request. Damen could barely focus on the taste of his own as he watched Laurent cut into the crispy surface.

Laurent ate as though it did not affect him in the slightest and even complimented Damen lightly. But he only ate about half and even that seemed a challenge. Baby steps…

“If you’re full, you don’t need to force the rest down.” Damen said.

In the past, Laurent might have denied it, just to be contrary but now he pushed the plate away with grace. “It’s…none too bad. Maybe…” Maybe they would try again another time.

They spent most of the afternoon at the flower farm, Laurent ambushed by puppies and Damen promising the owner that when he returned in the summer he would order several lavish bouquets to liven up his lake house.

“I would buy some now, but…we’re headed back to the city today.”

“It’s completely understandable. But I’ll be so glad to see you back here this summer. And hopefully…you’ll be bringing your lovely boyfriend back with you.” Damen almost denied it out of habit until he remembered: Laurent _was_ his boyfriend, his lover, his and all his. Damen must have flushed hot, for the man noticed and laughed, “Oh, don't try to deny it. I knew it the moment I saw the two of you together. He’s so lovely and sweet---.”

“Sweet?” Damen replied with a small smile, remembering how his first kisses with Laurent had been interspersed with Laurent calling him an asshole.

“And when you were here the other day, he could barely tear his eyes away from you.”

Damen moved slowly, infinitesimally, glancing up from under his eyelashes toward where Laurent was surrounded by pups. He caught a flash of blue, but when he tried to get a closer look, Laurent turned his head smoothly, as if his staring had been a fluke. Damen was glad his dark skin did not easily show blush.

Laurent was very reluctant to leave the dogs but the sun was beginning to drop low in the sky and Damen wanted to get back to the city at a reasonable hour.

“If I didn’t live in the city…” Laurent mused as he buckled his helmet, “I’d want to adopt one of those dogs.”

“Your apartment doesn’t allow pets?”

“Those kinds of dogs need room to run and be free.” Laurent replied. “I’d hate to see it trapped in an apartment all the time when it could have…this instead.”

“Heaven?” Damen offered.

“Shut up.” Laurent whispered, blushing.

Things were a little somber as they arrived back at the lake house and had to pack their things and begin to ‘board’ up the house in preparation to go back to the city. Mostly it consisted of disposing of the leftover food and making sure the water heater and lights were turned off. Damen noticed the carefully preserved flower crown tucked into Laurent’s backpack. Laurent was unusually silent and obedient as he followed Damen’s instructions. It was kind of unnerving actually.

“Are we leaving now?” Laurent asked when the last of the house lights had been turned off and Damen had strapped his duffel bag onto the side of the motorcycle. He looked so forlorn---for Laurent’s standards---that Damen immediately reached out his hand.

His hands felt nice, woven with Laurent’s. “Not yet. Let’s go out back a minute.”

They stood on the pier for a while, Laurent resting securely against his chest. Damen felt so happy he might have burst. “I kissed you here.” And then made a noise of delight at the memory.

Laurent’s ears were positively scarlet. “I kissed _you_! Smug bastard…”

“Your first kiss.”

Laurent’s ears were red, but his cheeks only got darker and darker pink. “You are ruining a perfectly lovely memory, damn it.”

“I can’t wait to kiss you here again.” Damen whispered, ignoring Laurent’s feigned annoyance. It was a promise and it was amazing. He thought of their first day here and how he was afraid of giving Laurent and himself any hope of their future together but now…all he could think of were the possibilities.

They could come here every summer and Laurent could work on his case. Damen could take him to the beach where his family used to go on vacations and he wondered if Laurent’s fine skin would glaze over brown or turn pink-red as his cheeks. They could eat dinner and go drinking with his friends. Damen could cook for him every day…branch out and make French soups (better than Auguste’s cook) or Thai noodles or Indian curries, maybe even a cake after a while… They could just _live_.

“You can kiss me again now.” Laurent suggested softly. Damen took him up on his offer. It seemed a shame to part from this.

When both of their lips were acceptably numb, Damen led the way over to the motorcycle and handed Laurent the spare helmet. When Laurent squeezed up behind him, Damen shuddered with pleasure as Laurent put a quick, daring kiss on the back of Damen’s neck.

“Ready?”

“Damianos?”

“Yeah?”

“This motorcycle has grown on me.” Laurent admitted, squeezing Damen’s waist. “You should get one.”

“Should I?” Damen asked starting up the engine. He’d consider it.

He was woefully unprepared for Laurent’s next move which was to press his petal-soft lips against Damen’s earlobe and shyly whisper. “You look… _sexy_ when you ride a motorcycle.” That settled it then. Damen made up his mind in that instant: he was going to buy a motorcycle.

 

He and Laurent arrived back in the city around 7 PM and Damen felt a small twinge of concern as he remembered who exactly had been guarding their apartment while they had been away in the lake house. He fully expected to go up and find the wood floors coated in a mix of bubble foam, lube, glitter, whipped cream, and suspiciously wet underwear. He prayed silently that Pallas and Lazar had contained themselves a little in the past few days.

Luckily, the two of them were sitting on the couch watching a movie and behaving quite respectably although Lazar’s arm was around Pallas’ shoulders and Pallas had one hand dangerously high on Lazar’s thigh. There was nothing illicit on the floor and the window had been replaced in their absence. Damen would take it as a victory, even though Pallas walked a little funny as he got up to greet them. Lazar was focused on Pallas’ ass.

“Boss, you’re back early!” His voice sounded a little raspy too.

“I am and don’t call me ‘boss’.” Damen responded with a smile, throwing his duffel bag on one of the kitchen chairs. “Nikandros said he had something I needed to see and it sounded pretty serious. Any problems here?”

“None. The repairmen came on Friday to fix the window and we checked the mailbox every day. Nothing.” Pallas turned to Laurent. “I did a secondary security sweep of the apartment as well. Particularly your bedroom. You’re all good.”

Laurent’s eyes flashed with something as he thanked Pallas and Damen wondered if his coworker had just insinuated that he had fucked in Laurent’s bedroom. Surely Pallas wouldn’t be so classless.

“Any word from Aktis?” Damen asked.

Lazar answered this time having settled his right hand securely in Pallas’ back pocket. “Yeah he’s been messaging us, apparently having the time of his goddamn life with that blue-eyed bitch.”

Laurent looked concerned for a moment, perhaps remembering Nicaise’s previous profession and the older men he had interacted with before. Damen was unperturbed; aside from one memorable drunk incident where he had kissed Pallas, Aktis had never once shown any interest in men. “Doing what?”

“Video games.” Pallas supplied. “Apparently Aktis is quite good and he has been called every name under the sun.”

“Well at least _someone_ has been having fun these past couple days.” Laurent lied.

“Are you going back to headquarters tonight?” Damen asked Pallas, grinning a bit too widely when he saw that Laurent’s ear were pink. “I’m sure Lydos and Nikandros could use an extra body.”

“Yes, erm,” Pallas glanced back at Lazar and bit his bottom lip, “we’re going to drop off my dirty clothes and stuff at home first and then run over to base. Lazar is going to help us pick up the slack tonight since I assume Aktis is going to stay with Nicaise.” Damen had the distinct feeling, due to the way Lazar was moving his hand in Pallas’ back pocket, that the dirty clothes weren’t the only things that were going to be dropped on the floor of Pallas’ apartment.

After handing over the keys to Nikandros’ bike---as Pallas and Lazar would be returning it to him---the two house-sitters left and Laurent and Damen were alone. Laurent looked thunderstruck.

“Told you so,” Damen offered, knowing what he was thinking. “Once Pallas wants you…it’s over.”

“ _How_?”

“Truly a mystery for the ages.” Damen shrugged. “Sorry you didn’t have fun these past couple of days.” Laurent blushed.

“Oh, be quiet.”

It was unusual to be back in Laurent’s apartment, even though only a few days had passed. Everything was the same but…the feeling was different. For some reason, Damen felt hopeful and unafraid of being back in this place. It was less of his clients’ apartment and more a feeling of home. No…He placed a hand on the back of Laurent’s slim neck and ran his fingers into the soft blond hair there. It wasn’t the apartment that felt like home. He was just desperately in love with the owner and now was looking at life through rose-colored glasses.

He was grinning like a fool as he threw his things in the washer and then meandered over to Laurent’s room where he was putting his things away. Damen caught sight of Laurent’s cell phone on the bedside table.

“Laurent?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a cell phone?”

Laurent looked over at that question and glanced at his cell phone before looking up at Damen. It was one of the questions that Damen had completely forgotten to ask while they were in the lake house. Now he wondered…

“I used to have a cell phone on my family plan. But…I was always afraid someone would try to access it,” Laurent looked away in shame but he was more honest now, “that _he_ would access it and find out…anything really. It was improbable but it ate at me. And Paschal said it might be better for my…mental health if I just got rid of the phone. I only got this one so that I could contact Nicaise without anyone knowing. Jord got it for me and set the privacy to the highest level.” He looked up at Damen who had moved closer as he had explained and his smile was brittle. “I know, I know, I lied. And you’re dating a basket case.”

“And what a lovely basket you are.” Laurent snorted at Damen’s foolishness and then gave a soft little sigh as Damen tenderly kissed both of his eyelids. “It was good that you stopped using a phone though. I would hate to think if the stalker could access it either…”

“You’re not angry about this?” Laurent asked, leaning into him.

“Mmm, is it cheesy if I just now ask for your phone number?” Damen responded and Laurent began to laugh helplessly. “I’m kind of a jealous guy though, so you might have to delete that other contact.”

“Don’t be jealous of a sharp-tongued teenager.” Laurent said between his laughs. “And I should be the jealous one! That you’re constantly surrounded by those hulking friends of yours and Pallas the sex god?”

“Speaking of my hulking friends,” Damen let go after kissing the top of Laurent’s head, “I need to call Nikandros.”

“I’ll be jealous.” Laurent said with dry unconcern.

Now it was Damen’s turn to laugh. “You honestly think I would leave you for Nikandros?”

“He shares in my sweet and laid-back personality.” Laurent joked, his mouth twitching up in a smile, in spite of himself. Damen kissed his sweet mouth before he used Laurent’s phone to call Nikandros; Nikandros had his phone still.

“Nikandros, it’s Damen.” Damen said over the speakerphone.

“Hey boss, welcome back.”

“Don’t call me that!” Damen laughed right as Laurent responded: “I think it’s attractive when they call you ‘boss’.” Nikandros groaned over the line and Laurent laughed at Damen’s blush.

“Are you on speakerphone? You know what? Never mind; I guess it’s easier to tell the both of you at the same time. I finished looking through your phone Damen and…I don’t know how to tell you this but it appears that someone has been tracking you through your phone.” Damen and Laurent immediately lost their element of good humor. It was back to reality and they had to be on constant alert again…

“What happened?” Damen asked, his tone raw.

“Someone remotely accessed your phone and installed a GPS tracker. A good one. They’ve been following you and Laurent around with it and I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to uninstall it. To be honest, you’d probably just be further ahead to scrap your current contract and buy a new phone…”

“That bad huh?” Damen said, his hands shaking a little.

“I am _extremely_ concerned.” Nikandros was not the type to mince words. “The more I learn about this stalker, the more I am convinced he is either a professional or getting help from someone who is a professional…” It was no wonder then, that Auguste was having difficulty tracking the man down.

“Ok…”

“What do you want me to do with the phone?”

“Destroy it.” Damen hissed. “Make sure it’s completely unusable.”

“Consider it done. Stay safe Damen.”

“Thanks.”

When Damen hung up the phone and turned to give it to Laurent, Laurent had moved so that he was right there when Damen turned. He took his phone back and tossed it carelessly on the bed so that he could take Damen’s hands. His face was so sweet, so utterly blameless that Damen felt the full force of his own guilt.

“Laurent, I---.”

“How unusual I find it that I have to assure you…” Laurent brought Damen’s hands up to his cheeks and leaned into them with a smile, “that none of this is your fault.”

“Laurent.” Damen insisted. “I’m sorry. I had no idea or I would have gotten rid of my phone.”

“I know.”

“If only I had done a more thorough check of my phone. It’s all my fault they found Nicaise. That he knew when we’d be gone. That he---.” The pain was laced through his mind and Damen shook his head, refusing to even look at Laurent. There were those familiar feelings of failure that had begun to set in despite his best efforts.

Without him even realizing it, Laurent had eased him down so he was seated on the bed and was softly running his hands through Damen’s dark, wavy hair. “Normally I would offer that you should shoot something to relieve your stress but…I am rather fond of the walls in my apartment. Let’s go out tomorrow and get a new phone.” Damen was still concerned about Nikandros’ warning but he didn’t like Laurent having to fuss over him like this, so he looked up with a half-hearted smile. Laurent returned it. “Sound good?”

“Do you know what sounds better?” Damen asked cheekily and Laurent flushed pink.

“No…”

Damen settled for a kiss on the very tip of Laurent’s nose and then snatched the phone from where it had been abandoned on the bed. He would have to use it until they bought his new phone the next day.

“Let’s order out tonight. What are you in the mood for?”

Laurent stood smoothly and went back to his clothes. But he shot a wicked look over at Damen. “Whatever you want… _boss_.” Damen felt hot.

 

Late that night, Damen came awake to Laurent trembling in his arms and he immediately woke up and began to clear the hair from Laurent’s eyes. It was unusual that Laurent would suffer from sleep paralysis while sleeping on his side and Damen cursed the fact that they had come back to the city on such a poor note. They should have stayed by the lake…

“Laurent. Is it the nightmares?”

No, he was moving and the trembling stopped when Damen spoke and held him closer.

“No…it’s just…I feel unsettled.” His voice was very soft in the darkness.

“Ok…” Normally Damen would have reached for the light, but now he knew that Laurent felt a little safe, a little more honest under the cover of darkness. “Why do you feel unsettled?”

“Because you sound a lot like Paschal right now and I’m a little concerned.”

“ _Laurent_.” Damen tried to sound serious in between his chuckles. “Are you truly so unsettled if you can crack jokes?”

Laurent nuzzled into his neck and Damen could feel the smile on his lips. “I would never even tell Paschal this. So you should feel special in comparison.” Damen kissed Laurent’s forehead and waited. “I…don’t want him to hurt me. I used to think I wouldn’t care…that I was too strong to care but…when you kept telling me you wouldn’t let him touch me I guess it…made me think that I _should_ care. After all, you kept saying it.”

“I mean it,” Damen insisted. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of sex.” Laurent tensed up and his tone was defensive.

“How would you know?” Damen asked. “You’ve never had sex before.”

Laurent’s skin was cold and Damen could tell he was not fond of the turn this conversation had taken. “I told you I---.”

“You told me what happened.” Damen admitted. “But that wasn’t sex and…I think you know it. It should be sweet and gentle and…” Damen was desperately trying to convey to Laurent that he wasn’t tainted; as far as Damen was concerned, Laurent was still a virgin. “It should be something you decide to do with a lover. And I’m glad you care. And I won’t let anyone touch you…until you want it. Ok?”

Laurent had warmed up. He was blushing.

“You’re a sentimental fool,” he whispered after a long moment.

“But do you feel better?”

“….Yes.”

Damen wrapped his legs around Laurent to give him an extra loving squeeze. “I’m fine with being a sentimental fool if you feel better. You are worthy of all I give you. Now let’s get some sleep, ok?”

Laurent yanked himself closer in response, falling asleep with his head securely on the left side of Damen’s chest.


	25. Day 24: The Touch That Makes You Go Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some big announcements!  
> First of all, this chapter is hella long to make up for the shortness of last chapter and I hope you guys 'enjoy' this one! Because...  
> Second, I have some people visiting me in Taiwan and so next chapter might be a little later. I try to avoid this but...if you want updates for when I'll post the next one, I'll have it on my tumblr (@steelestingray). I want to make sure after this I keep the 4-day schedule, so please bear with it...  
> Finally...this chapter has some TRIGGER WARNINGS and I'm sure a lot of you will feel highly unsatisfied with how this whole situation has played out. Laurent is just too stubborn and I promise I will remedy the fallout of this. I just feel like a lot of fics use intimacy to solve problems and...it doesn't always work out as planned...  
> Enjoy and, as always, thank you for your support and comments!

** Day 24: The Touch That Makes You Go Mad **

Laurent was in an oddly contemplative mood for most of the next morning.

When he woke up to find Damen looking at him with a sweet grin while simultaneously playing with the tips of Laurent’s pale hair, he flushed pink and pushed away. It was more due to his own embarrassment than a rebuff of Damen’s affections and Damen let him go. He stared at Damen as though he had not seen him in years.

His strange mood persisted through breakfast.

Damen made eggs sunny side up and basted in butter, creamy thick coconut milk porridge, and toasted slices of bread. As he did so, he was vaguely aware of Laurent tapping his fingernail errantly on the table, never once removing he gaze from Damen’s back. He wasn’t even reading. Odd…

When Damen put the full plate in front of Laurent, Laurent jumped and stared at the food like it was going to leap at him. Despite Damen attempting to make conversation, Laurent gave one-word answers or did not even respond, looking confused as Damen asked him if he was ok. Damen shrugged after the fourth instance of this and just let Laurent lose himself in thought.

Damen wondered if it was due to their conversation from the middle of the night…

Around noon the two of them went to the grocery together to buy any ingredients that they had not been able to freeze before going to the lake, but before that they dropped by Damen’s cell phone provider to purchase a new phone. Laurent errantly played with the floor models as Damen attempted to explain why his current phone was out of commission.

“My phone was stolen.” He said, subtly keeping an eye on Laurent.

“Well sir,” the cheerful salesperson explained, “if you have the GPS function enabled then we can track your phone to it’s last registered area and---.” The mention of GPS immediately had Damen on edge, remembering what Nikandros had said and he smoothly interrupted.

“No, no. I checked it…at another store and erm, it looks like it’s been broken so…I’d like to buy a new phone.”

“Ah well…let me pull up your file and see if you have a warranty…”

Damen half-listened as he watched Laurent download strange apps onto the floor model phones and he slapped down his credit card without even listening to how much the phone cost. Only one question jerked him back to the very understanding salesperson.

“Sir, Damianos, are there any setting preferences you’d like me to install on your new phone?”

“I want the highest level of privacy.” Damen ordered, using his intense, take-no-bullshit work voice. “And I want to receive any notice of hacking and a phone call or text message before anyone makes changes or updates to this phone. Can you do that for me?”

“O-Of course.” Alarmed by the change in tone and the odd requests the salesperson began typing frantically on the computer, making particular note of Damen’s stipulations. While they did, Damen wondered again who had been able to access his phone remotely…it would take considerable skills and a lot of research on him…

Laurent wandered back over to his side when the salesperson went to retrieve Damen’s new phone from the back. Damen knew it was him without turning by the way Laurent lightly brushed against his hips and shoulder. _Hellcat…_

“Is everything in order?”

“They’re going to alert me if anyone tries to download anything remotely. If anyone---if _he_ tries to install GPS again, I’ll know.”

“Only if they are quick enough to see it.” Laurent whispered.

“So positive, you are.” Damen murmured lovingly in reply, running one hand through the baby hairs at the top of Laurent’s neck. “I have faith in them.”

“That’s your issue. You always think the best is going to happen.”

“So we balance each other out well.” Damen said, once again finding the optimism in the situation. “And I like it when your tiny body is filled with negativity.” Laurent blushed at that and bumped hard into Damen.

“Be quiet.”

Damen received the small white box without even looking inside and thanked the salesperson before he and Laurent went to the grocery to figure out what to make for dinner. For some reason, being back in Laurent’s kitchen made him want to go all out with the menu, so he bought ingredients for a light tomato soup for lunch and promised a more lavish dinner as a counterbalance.

“How do you like your steak, Laurent?” Damen asked looking at the selection of meats available. There were a couple cuts of very nice sirloin that he was eyeing.

“Blue.” Laurent responded immediately, tossing a carton of the first crop of strawberries into their cart. Damen flicked his ear.

“Must you be so difficult?”

Laurent neatly ignored him, tossing in a bundle of dried red cayenne peppers. “I have to go get some toiletries. Do you think it’s…safe to go get them?” Ah. Back in the city it was no longer safe for him to run out of sight. But Damen hated restricting his freedom like that.

Instead, he smoothly unholstered his stun gun from his left hip and handed it to Laurent. “It’s a double working gun. Pull the trigger to shoot the taser prongs if someone is coming at you from far away; if he’s close, press this button,” Damen motioned to the red button on the handle, “wait three seconds for the ticking and then jab it into him. Ok?”

“What happens if I shoot it into another source of electricity?” Laurent asked, his expression deathly serious. “Will I get superpowers?”

“Ha ha.” Damen physically pressed the device into Laurent’s hands. “Don’t hurt yourself. And hurry back.” It was hard for him not to feel unsettled as Laurent disappeared from view, but the light kiss Laurent gave him was still warm on his cheek by the time Laurent returned…empty handed.

“They didn’t have what you needed?” Damen asked, his hands full of shallots.

“They did.” Laurent said, returning the taser. “But I bought it already.”

Damen shrugged and felt that Laurent was entitled to secrecy over his preference of shampoo. He had more important things to worry about; like which type of red wine he wanted to use for the sauce…

By the time they had finished checking out, Damen had completely forgotten about his new phone and did not remember until they were back in Laurent’s apartment. However, when he removed the phone from the box to charge, it gave him pause. Laurent looked down with a small giggle.

“You bought a pink phone?”

“It says it’s ‘rose gold’.” Damen responded in confusion as he looked at the box. He didn’t much care either way but he wondered if the salesperson had even asked for his preference of color.

“It’s pink.” Laurent insisted.

 

Damen personally felt as though he had outdone himself with dinner that evening.

Although he was not skilled enough to get the steak ‘blue’ in accordance to Laurent’s preference, he did manage to sear the smaller steak so that it was raw and still oozing red when he set it to the side. He preferred his own meat medium rare and cooked it to his liking before beginning to prepare the sauce.

The ingredients melted into a puddle, releasing fragrant vapors into the air that made Damen’s head spin with hunger. Butter, red wine, stock, shallots and vinegar all sizzled together in a viscous amalgam of sweet and savory and winey.

While he worked on the main course, Laurent was behind him fiddling with the strawberries and the microwave. He had finished whatever he was doing by the time Damen had finished their steaks and was pretending to look sleek and unbothered as he waited.

“I was under the impression,” Laurent said as Damen served him the steaming platter of steak, shallots and tiny red potatoes, “that a steak dinner was served on the first date.”

Damen snorted as he sat down at his place across from Laurent. “If I had tried the moment I met you, I think you would have gutted me with the steak knife.” Laurent grinned by way of response and sawed into his steak, releasing salty red fluid into the sauce.

Even Laurent could not control his expression as he took his first bite.

His long eyelashes fluttered in something like rapture and when he opened his eyes they were unfocused and shiny, causing Damen to nearly choke on his own bite. That glassy-eyed look was one he was intimately familiar with but one he rarely saw outside of the bedroom. It was a look of orgasmic bliss that made Damen feel faint.

“Good?” He coughed, unable to tear his eyes away.

Laurent had the sense of mind to look a little self-conscious as he blushed and looked away. “For…some reason the sauce just…tastes really good.”

“Better than Auguste’s steak?”

“He doesn’t cook.” Laurent argued back, smiling as he began to carve out a second bite. “Quit trying to one-up my brother and focus on something else!”

“I am.” Damen made a point to stare helplessly at Laurent, as he knew his voice sounded ridiculous. He was rewarded by another deep blush from Laurent and he returned to his steak with the determination of someone who was very embarrassed.

“Any reason you chose this dinner?” Laurent asked.

“I thought you might be sick of Greek food.” Damen admitted. “And…to be honest…I wanted to cook you something…romantic.”

“I knew it.” Laurent smiled as he bit into a potato and his lips stained crimson from the sauce.

“I can’t help myself.”

The meat went down in bites like hot coals and settled warm in the pit of Damen’s stomach; for some reason, gazing at Laurent only made them burn hotter and Damen was sure that soon his stomach was going to fall through his body out onto the floor. Laurent, on his part, did not look perturbed, but his ears were bordering on blushing red.

When the meal had finished Laurent got to his feet with a look of expectation he leveled at Damen. “I made something for dinner as well…”

“You cook?” Damen asked teasingly, unable to tear his eyes from Laurent’s waist. He remembered the feel of it in his fingertips, smooth white marble, cold silk, pulsing like a bird’s heart or the beat of a butterfly wing. He could feel it in his hands now and he stood without even realizing what he was doing. His hands just… _ached_.

Laurent twitched when Damen placed one hand on his hip and peered around his shoulder.

“Occasionally.” Laurent answered tilting his head so that he could face Damen. His breath was sharp with the scent of red wine and shallots.

When he removed his hands from the fridge, it was with a plate of strawberries half-dipped in dark chocolate. Damen could sense the amateurs’ hand in the uneven coat of chocolate but he was touched by the gesture. He kissed the spot on Laurent’s neck where he knew the pulse would be strongest.

“They look…delicious.”

“Don’t tease me.” Laurent snarled at him. “I’ll shove these strawberries up your nose.” However he did not maneuver out of Damen’s touch. He did not bother to clear the table but instead moved to the living room and placed the strawberries down on the coffee table.

Damen had to remove his hand from Laurent’s hip but their legs were touching when they sat side by side on the couch.

“Which one do you want?” Laurent asked, barely able to contain himself as he looked between Damen’s expression and the lumpy strawberries.

Damen pretended to deliberate for a long while before he selected the ugliest of the bunch and bit into the entire thing in one bite. There was a jolt of surprise for him as he really truly tasted what Laurent had given him. First he was amazed even that Laurent with his misgivings about candy would even make something dipped in chocolate. But of course with Laurent there was always an edge to his sweetness. Laurent had infused some of the dried cayenne into the chocolate and Damen’s mouth went dry at the same time the strawberry juice attempted to drown out the spice.

Laurent grinned wickedly as Damen looked at him in amazement.

“How is it? Is it good? How is the taste?”

“Taste for yourself.” Damen responded, feeling equally wicked. Before Laurent could reach for a strawberry of his own, Damen ducked forward, catching Laurent unaware and kissing him full on the mouth. Along with Damen’s tongue, Laurent got the taste of his own creation without actually having to eat the chocolate.

His dark eyes were laser focused and shiny when they broke apart. “Sloppy hellhound.”

“Delicious.” Damen replied without clarifying what he found delicious.

Laurent blushed.

Damen ate most of the spicy-sweet strawberries though Laurent did eat about three of them, nibbling delicately in a way that made Damen want to kiss him again. There was still a burning in his chest and stomach that the pepper didn’t help. After the strawberries had been eaten, Damen and Laurent cleaned up the kitchen in comfortable silence and ended their evening with Damen and Laurent taking turns reading to each other on Laurent’s sofa while Laurent reclined against his chest. The heat had not abated yet…

It was still flickering strong as the two of them finally decided to turn in for the night. Damen threw himself lengthwise across Laurent’s bed and Laurent giggled at how ridiculous he looked.

“I’m going to go shower before bed.” Laurent said.

“Need any help?”

“Piss off!”

Damen watched the sway of Laurent’s hips with a smile and began to nod off the moment he heard the sound of Laurent’s shower running. He didn’t wake up from his light doze until Laurent exited from the bathroom, patting his blond hair dry with a towel. In his haze Damen realized his burning feeling had not gone out…and, upon checking his phone, realized that Laurent had been in the bathroom for a little over an hour.

“Did you watch a movie in there?” He asked groggily.

“Are you still dreaming?” Laurent laughed, reaching his hand inside the bathroom to hang up his towel. “Just lie back down and rest. I’ll…change and then get into bed.” Damen would have liked to watch but he dutifully closed his eyes and did not open them even as the light changed when Laurent turned off the lamp.

The rustle of sheets and the shift in weight and Damen finally allowed himself to open his eyes. His arms too he opened in a circle in preparation for Laurent to slide up against him.

There was a moment of odd hesitancy but…

Laurent moved up against him and Damen froze immediately. Even though he was wearing his tank top as a pajama shirt and his boxer briefs, he could clearly feel that Laurent was as naked as the day he was born. This was unlike Laurent who always dressed wrist to ankle in pajamas, who refused to even skinny-dip under the cover of darkness, to be naked and…vulnerable…

Was this another test? Damen was aware that he was holding his breath as he considered all the options. He wondered if Laurent was trying to push his self-control and see if he would break…

He would never touch Laurent without express permission but…it felt so lovely to stretch out his fingers on that smooth, white back and only encounter uninterrupted skin. It was a waste that the lights were out…

“Laurent?” Damen removed his hands cautiously and they hovered millimeters above Laurent’s body. “What---?”

He was truly unprepared for the onslaught of words.

Coming out in a rush, like one long sentence and scarcely a breath in between, Laurent explained. “First of all I don't need to explain to you this situation, as it is my house and you are in my bed and I am perfectly in my right to wear or not wear clothes as I see fit. Secondly, I was under the impression that…that lo---those in our situation could engage in certain… _intimacies_ and that the best way to go about this was to make a polite overture---.”

“So you stripped down _naked_?”

“And I was unsure of which suggestion would be the most successful in arousing you so I decided that the best course of action for you would be the most straightforward approach. And now you are asking me foolish questions and I’m beginning to wonder why you haven’t---.”

“ _Laurent_.” Damen’s head was spinning and he begged a pause. “Are you asking me to---.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” Laurent shook his head and Damen felt the heat. He must have been extraordinarily embarrassed. “I just…I want this and I…prepared in the shower…”

“ _What_?”

“At the store I…bought all of the proper toiletries and I thought to…save some time and just…” Laurent was already turning his back to Damen to present himself and Damen felt the situation spiraling desperately out of his control. “Do you need an invitation in writing?”

“No, but it would be nice if I could turn the lights on!”

“ _Denied_.”

Damen sighed and tried to figure out which emotion and thought he should focus on first. He decided to focus on the ‘why’ first. “Laurent…now let me get this straight,” He squeezed Laurent tight in his arms so that Laurent would not attempt to up and mount him as he spoke, “You want me to…to make love to you tonight?”

Laurent stiffened but his voice was cool and unflinching. “Yes. Fucking was the intention.”

“We’ve only just confessed four days ago.” Five days ago he wouldn’t have thought this current situation possible. “You don’t have to… _rush_ this…” His hips were arguing another case altogether.

“We are not blushing virgins,” Laurent argued back, although Damen would say almost the exact opposite with the heat coming from Laurent’s head and neck. “I have already prepared so we can dispense of any…useless foreplay. I know you want this,” he crudely cupped Damen’s renegade erection by way of proving his point, “so…let’s…”

Damen pouted a little.

He didn’t think Laurent would like for him to explain in detail how foreplay was one of his favorite parts of making love. He would be lying if he hadn’t entertained the thought of teasing Laurent to limp sweetness, caressing him until he was more pink than white… that he found it was such a waste that he had prepared himself beforehand…

“Are you sure…you _want_ this?”

“Yes, for god’s sake! Now just…put it in already.”

Something about his tone cut through Damen. There was probably a reason Laurent disliked foreplay. There was probably a reason he knew how to prepare himself beforehand. And it was probably best that Damen didn’t dwell on the reasons why…for the sake of his own sanity.

It was not his normal method of doing things and he felt as though he could not savor Laurent properly in this situation but Laurent might take the rejection for disgust. He couldn’t argue with this force of nature in his arms.

“Ok…umm…” His cock rejoiced from where it was wedged at the curve of Laurent’s back, “But may I make one request before?”

Laurent was extremely hesitant. Damen could feel it in the nerves of his arms.

“What…is it?”

“Will you kiss me first?” Damen’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears and he hoped he did not sound desperate for this. Laurent’s shoulders tensed and then he spun. Damen was ready for him.

He was under the (correct) impression that Laurent associated every part of lovemaking with some level of violence and he had his hands ready to catch Laurent’s cheeks as he attempted to crush his lips to Damen’s. Damen stopped him and instead cupped his head tenderly and kissed him so lightly it was more like a first kiss than Laurent’s real first kiss.

Laurent made a noise of irritation in his chest and attempted to dive on top of Damen in order to control the situation. Damen was having none of it and curled around Laurent’s body with his own, making the kisses deeper, but no less sweet. Laurent was clearly frustrated but he was melting under Damen’s kisses, the tension leaving his body little by little.

Laurent finally managed to come to his senses and wrenched out of Damen’s grasp, his white torso easy to make out in the darkness. Without explanation, he ripped Damen’s tank top off and wrenched his boxer briefs down to his ankles. He had never been stripped with such drastic desperation.

“No condom?” Damen asked.

He took Laurent’s silence as a ‘no’ and once again checked his rage at Laurent’s uncle for a later date.

His body must have been harder to make out in the darkness but Laurent gave a shuddering little gasp that was barely audible over the sound of rustling sheets. Damen lay very still in response.

It took Laurent a moment to steel his resolve but then he sank lengthwise against Damen arching his back impatiently so that he was pressed into Damen’s erection. Damen had to struggle not to groan aloud as he felt the slick of the lubricant and the unusual heat coming from Laurent’s skin. _Someday_ , he promised himself, he would be responsible for that warmth and slickness.

His suspected fears had been confirmed when Laurent attempted to buck backwards with the intents of skewering himself and Damen paused him with hand on that fine white hip. The pulse beneath seemed to be pumping dangerously fast and Damen soothed him with one thumb.

“Wait,” His voice was breathless, and he placed a soft kiss on the sweat damp hair by Laurent’s ear, “Laurent how…how would you like it?”

“Quickly.” Laurent spat out in a nervous fury.

Damen did not know what else to do so he began to push forward as gently as he was able with his hands still on Laurent’s hips. Despite all of his prior preparations, Laurent was so tense it was as if he was made of stone. Damen hated the feeling that Laurent was dreading the entire interaction. Making love should not be like this…but Laurent seemed desperate.

Damen pushed softly and Laurent dug fingernails into his shoulder, hissing from between clenched teeth.

Laurent was so tight that Damen could only inch about half of his length in before he forced himself to stop. Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose and his hands slid down Laurent’s twitching stomach until he reached the crux of the hips. It startled him to find that Laurent was not aroused in the least.

Laurent felt him stop and immediately tensed even tighter. Damen gritted his teeth.

“Why have you stopped?” His voice was edging on sounding unhinged.

Damen’s voice was a whisper, barely heard above Laurent’s breath. “Laurent…love, you’re not relaxed…you’re _scared_ …” He attempted to soothe Laurent by clearing some of the pale hair from Laurent’s neck, rubbing the skin and the muscles of the shoulders.

There was a small noise and it broke Damen’s heart. It sounded like a whimper.

With much more ease than he went in, Damen slid out and Laurent gasped. “I can’t---I have to turn on the light.” Damen insisted and he was too fast for Laurent to catch him.

Light flooded the bedroom and Damen looked down at the man he loved, pressed beneath him.

He did not focus on the body he had only seen in glimpses or in his dreams, but instead searched Laurent’s face. Laurent’s eyes were wide and guileless in the soft light of the lamp, and his expression was one of a man who was incredibly out of his element and terrified of losing control of his own body. He seemed ashamed to have Damen even look at his flushed face and turned his head to the side. Damen caught him with one hand, the other cradling the back of Laurent’s head. Laurent’s bottom lip was trembling infinitesimally against the sticky skin of his cheek and jaw as Damen kissed his eyelids and the light freckles on his nose and the corners of his mouth.

“You didn’t listen to me.” Laurent said accusingly, when Damen pulled back and simply gazed at him adoringly.

“It’s not my style to listen to you when you’re being completely unreasonable.” Damen admitted and rested his head on Laurent’s collarbone. After a moment of Damen cradling him, Laurent relaxed a little and even began to run his hands through Damen’s wavy dark hair. “I’m sorry for stopping but…it shouldn’t be like this…”

“And you’re some kind of expert on the subject?” Came the dry response.

“I’d like to think so.” Damen said with a grin, nibbling lightly on Laurent’s collarbone. “When I do it…I like for the one I’m loving to lose themselves in the feeling. To feel so good that they float.”

“You would.” Laurent snorted derisively.

“Do you really want this?” Damen asked leaning up on his elbows, “We can wait, no pressure. I don’t need this from you. We can wait,” he cleared more hair from Laurent’s forehead and ignore his own arousal, “for as long as you need. I’m fine with just… _holding you_.”

Laurent chewed on his lower lip. “I think I need to do this. To prove to myself that I’m not…” He did not finish his thought and Damen did not press him. It was very like Laurent to prove this way that he was unafraid of sex. That he could overcome his past traumas by sheer force of his own will. Damen remembered him forcing down French toast.

“Then…please…” Damen began, promising desperately with the kisses he placed on Laurent’s palm, “Please trust me. Trust me with your body. I won’t hurt you. I won’t take you with violence. Anything you ask of me, I’ll do it. I’ll…I’ll treasure you.”

There was a long pause with Laurent looking as though he wished he could be anywhere else.

“Ok…ok…”

Damen needed no further invitation and kissed Laurent’s bottom lip before he leaned back to get a good look at his lover.

Even in the warmth of the light, Laurent looked like a statue of marble, the subject of a painting, reclined on the mussed bed sheets. His golden hair took on a silvery sheen in the relative darkness and he could see the webs of blue veins with the backdrop of the dark sheets on his pale skin. He was so lovely it was almost ethereal… he couldn’t possibly be a real, breathing human and Damen drank him in with awe and adoration.

Self-conscious, Laurent turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

Highly reluctant, Damen averted his eyes and pressed his face into Laurent’s hair and tried to explore and memorize Laurent’s body with his hands. The moment his thumb encountered a nipple, Laurent twitched and curled in on himself.

“Don’t touch me either.”

Damen laughed into Laurent’s almond-scented skin. “Then what am I allowed to do?”

“Fuck me.”

Damen sighed, torn halfway between desire and exasperation. He found a way to circumvent Laurent’s ridiculous stipulations by closing his eyes and beginning to kiss Laurent’s mouth. Slowly… _slowly_ … Laurent began to lean into the kisses and his hips curved up into Damen’s body without him even realizing, Damen pressed down and felt Laurent’s cock twitch against his leg in the early stages of arousal. Laurent gasped, opening his mouth wide as Damen touched it and felt the tip slick under his thumb.

“ _Don’t_!”

Damen let go immediately, accidentally opening his eyes, and Laurent tried to shift so that he was lying on his stomach. Damen stopped him.

Laurent looked panicked when he saw Damen’s eyes were open to his vulnerability but Damen closed his eyes again, as soon as he traced Laurent’s arms and moved them so that they were draped lightly across his shoulders. Laurent was almost motionless.

“As per our agreement,” Damen murmured after kissing Laurent’s ear, “I’ll love you with my body now…Are you ready? Are you…?”

“I’ve been ready for the past half hour!” Laurent hissed, impatiently biting Damen’s earlobe. “Just get it ov---!” Damen did not let him finish such a cold-hearted statement and silenced him with another kiss. One hand gently guided his own cock into place, an action so familiar he could do it in his sleep.

This time there was less resistance on his first push, but even so, Damen only sheathed himself halfway in; it was too much to ask a virgin man to take him all the way in one go. Laurent’s fists clenched on the muscles of his back.

In a way, having his eyes closed made the experience more scintillating.

Tremors shuddered unbidden through Laurent’s tight limbs and Damen could hear the ragged edges of his breaths as he began to thrust. Well, it wasn’t even thrusting in a general term, it was more of a ghost of thrusting, a promise of it, as Damen circled his hips in a tender motion, like slow dancing.

Damen slid his hands up the curve of Laurent’s waist and up his back so that he could lift Laurent up against his chest. Laurent could not stop his breath from hitching as his weight slid him down a little further on Damen’s cock. Their bodies were slick from sweat and Damen could not get a good grip on Laurent As they slid together. Damen could feel Laurent’s heartbeat thundering through his chest and he gasped desperately into the base of Laurent’s throat.

He rocked Laurent, running his lips across Laurent’s cheeks and jaw in search of his lips. Laurent refused to let go of his control enough to moan but he did twist and shift as Damen massaged his fingers into Laurent’s humid scalp and traced the planes of his back with the gentle scratch of fingernails. Laurent crushed his face into Damen’s shoulder, his brow clearly furrowed and Damen was struck with a panicked thought that Laurent was not truly comprehending who was making love to him in that moment.

So he broke his promise and opened his eyes.

“Laurent, Laurent.” He said it like a prayer, filled with hope and pleading, praying that Laurent was not drowning in a terrible memory. “ _Laurent_. I love you. Please look at me.” Laurent stiffened when he heard Damen’s voice right next to his ear but it took a few more iterations before Laurent looked up at him.

He seemed startled to see Damen’s eyes open and he flushed even deeper pink than he already was.

Truly, Laurent had never looked more attractive. His hair was half wild and half matted from sweat and his cheeks were blotchy in a spectrum of pinks. His lips were red from him biting on them and his eyes were wide and sweet with just this simple act of pleasure; Damen felt like his heart was going to burst.

Damen felt Laurent’s cock twitch against his stomach as their eyes locked and he attempted to avert his eyes. Damen wouldn’t let it stand.

With one hand he gently turned Laurent’s head and pressed his face forward so their noses were pressed flush and Laurent could not look away. With the other hand he brushed his knuckles against Laurent’s erection and watched as Laurent’s pupils dilated from the stimulation. The rocking of Laurent’s hips went a little faster and Damen refused to tear his eyes away. He wanted to see this. He wanted Laurent to see who exactly was loving him so tenderly, even though he insisted on closing his eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

Laurent was rubbing his erection on Damen’s stomach…Damen’s half-sheathed penis slid in and out in the smallest, most agonizing amounts…Damen ignored that and continued to whisper Laurent’s name, interspersed with how much he loved Laurent…it all happened so quickly.

In a moment, Laurent’s entire body coiled like a spring, squeezing tight and his hellcat claws raked red lines down Damen’s back. Then Laurent released the tension that had taken his body hostage and his hips jerked violently, three times; each time he ejaculated his arousal---as viscous and opaque as buttermilk---across the planes of Damen’s stomach. Damen stopped moving altogether---he even stopped breathing---and simply cradled Laurent’s head as Laurent tossed it back and gasped for air.

After a few moments of Damen and Laurent remaining frozen in a pulsing simulacrum of a masterfully made statue, Laurent draped helplessly in Damen’s hands, his eyelashes fluttering shut.

Normally, Damen felt like Laurent wasn’t the type to fall asleep immediately after, but it had been a stressful first time and Damen doubted Laurent was the type to touch himself. He couldn’t even _imagine_ Laurent pleasuring himself. He would also bookmark that idea for a later date.

After peppering a few feather-light kisses on Laurent’s slick cheeks, Damen slid out of Laurent, eliciting a soft moan, and lowered him onto a dry patch of the bed. Then he fetched his discarded clothes and used them to towel Laurent down, sponging off the sweat and lube and semen before he handled his own body. When he was finally prepared to turn off the light, Laurent was wavering between fighting to stay awake and slipping inexorably into a dream.

As he nuzzled up against Laurent in the darkness, running his hand through Laurent’s damp silky hair as he wrapped Laurent in a sheet to maintain his modesty, Laurent piped up in the darkness.

“Damianos…you didn’t… _cum_.”

Damen wrapped his arms around the Laurent-burrito in front of him and dreaded the awkward conversation the two of them were going to have in the morning…but for now he was just ready to hold Laurent and comfort him until they woke up. He pressed his face into the tangle of Laurent’s hair and felt himself falling.

“No. It…doesn’t always have to be that way…tonight…I just wanted you to feel good.” As if to support his statement, Damen’s cock gave an indignant twitch as it started to go limp against the sheets. “Now…sleep Laurent. Sleep sweetheart.”


	26. Day 25: The Other Side of the Coin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...  
> Last chapter I'm glad you guys liked for the imperfection of it all but today it's Damen's turn and he's gonna make some amends for the whole thing. There are still going to be some hesitancies from Laurent's side but, I hope this is more to your tastes ;)  
> Also thank you all for your patience with this chapter! I had a great time showing my visitors around and I've also been working on my Big Bang story AND the outline for my next Captive Prince fanfiction which I will start as soon as this fic is done! As an apology, I made this chapter SUPER long!  
> I hope you all enjoy and thank you for all of your lovely comments ;)

** Day 25: The Other Side of the Coin **

When Damen woke up in the morning, something felt distinctly off and, as he came to his senses, he realized it was because his arms were oddly empty. He came awake with a start as the events of the previous night came rushing back to him and he recalled that in all their time sleeping in the same bed, he had always woken up before Laurent had. He was on his feet in an instant, forgetting that he was naked as he burst into the main living area in a desperate search for Laurent.

It was good that Laurent was sitting down and not holding on to anything important or he might have dropped it. His face flushed so dark pink it was almost red and it extended all the way down to his collarbones. He stood up very quickly, his hands carefully relaxed by his sides.

Damen remembered again the way Laurent had looked upon orgasm and the way his white skin turned pink under his touch and he too felt his face flood with color. This was going to be awkward.

“Laurent!...Erm, is there anything you’d like for breakfast?”

Maybe something domestic, a habitual action would restore some semblance of normalcy for the two of them…maybe Laurent wouldn’t look so closed off from him. Laurent attempted to smooth his expression but his face was still radiating color.

“I…already ate.”

Damen panicked a little though he was intent on not letting it show on his face. “Oh?” He tried to sound unconcerned but it was not convincing to his own ears. “What did you eat?”

“…Toast.”

Laurent averted his eyes when he said so and Damen could not tell whether or not he was lying. For all he knew, Laurent could have just toasted a single slice of bread…or eaten nothing. The thought was deeply offensive to him.

“Do you need to…go prepare for school?” Damen would have heard the shower running in Laurent’s bathroom so he assumed Laurent would want to wash some of the sex off of him. Laurent shook his head, still refusing to look at Damen.

“I showered…in the spare bathroom and…there were clean clothes in the dryer.”

Damen swallowed. He did notice Laurent looked incredibly polished and sincerely hoped it was his imagination but…it seemed like Laurent was doing his very best to avoid interacting with him.

“Laurent.” A little gentler this time as he took a half step forward, “Can…can we talk about last---.” This statement was enough to get Laurent to finally look up at him and he could not hide the brief look of panic that flashed in his wide blue eyes. As if he knew Damen had seen it, Laurent held up his hands to stop him.

“Damianos…could you _please_ …put on some pants?”

That was enough to stop Damen’s flow of thoughts and he was profusely embarrassed as he realized he was completely naked. It had slipped his mind in his haste to find Laurent and patch up the awkward intimacy they had shared the night before. He would concede on that point.

He tried to unobtrusively walk back to Laurent’s room, though he felt a burning gaze directed towards his back and ass, which were still stinging from Laurent’s claw marks. He decided a quick shower would be the best course of action and his skin was still half-wet when he had yanked on a long-sleeved black shirt and thundered back out into the living room with all intent to explain himself to Laurent and apologize for any way he might have made Laurent uncomfortable the night before.

Laurent was lightly ignoring him as he waited for some acknowledgment.

“Laurent.” Damen implored. “Can we---?”

“Eat.” Laurent ordered, scribbling hastily in one of his school notebooks. “And focus on something else.”

“I want to talk to you.” Damen got close but did not dare touch Laurent without express permission. He felt like the notebook would be lobbed at his head. “Please. We _need_ to---.”

“Eat.” Laurent stubbornly refused to look up and his ears were dark and pink. “We can…talk about it after class. But please…for now just…let me be.” His voice was so soft and so unusual timid, that Damen did not have the heart to try and argue with him about it.

Damen irritably raked his hands through his hair. “Ok. Ok fine.”

All the food available tasted like ash to him as he could only focus on where he had gone wrong last night. He had tried his best to follow Laurent’s strange stipulations for ‘sex but…what if he had accidentally done something that had scared Laurent? Had he been too rough? Too touchy? Had he spoken out of turn? His stomach felt cold and nauseous as he wondered: had he done something similar to what Laurent’s uncle had done? The thought made him want to vomit and skid on his knees to Laurent to apologize for where he had gone wrong. He just wanted to talk and clear up their miscommunication so that they could get back in sync with one another. He just wanted to kiss Laurent so badly…

But he was patient and he knew Laurent’s personality, so he would wait.

Walking to campus in tense silence and sitting through class was an agony for Damen.

He had done so before less than a month ago, exactly like this, but now it was almost like he couldn’t remember a time when he and Laurent had been surrounded by such an awkward atmosphere. Even if they had argued, at least there was some communication, and Damen wanted the easy open conversations they had shared on the shore of the lake.

When classes had finished for the day, Damen was concerned for a moment that Laurent was going to build on his torture and insist on spending an extra two or three hours in the library but Laurent closed his books with a look of resignation and put them in his bag.

Though he made no explanation of where they were headed, but Damen breathed a sigh of relief when Laurent walked the opposite way of the library toward his apartment. With that single-minded stubbornness that had so endeared him to Damen in the first place, Laurent did not once look back at him, speak, or stop walking until they reached the door of his apartment.

When they had entered---of course in silence---and Laurent had tossed his keys and bag on the kitchen table, Damen finally released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding and felt comfortable speaking.

“Laurent. I am…so sorry.”

Laurent actually looked surprised at this outburst. “What on earth are you sorry for?”

Damen felt the confusion pulse through him. “I-I…you didn’t want to talk this morning---you were avoiding me,” (he tried to keep his tone from sounding accusing), “s-so I assumed…I had done something last night that you found… _distasteful_. And I’m sorry if I did so; I tried my best to please you…given the circumstances.”

Laurent was staring at him with wide eyes and Damen waited to see what he would do.

To his surprise, Laurent closed the gap between them in three strides, though he was just far enough away to be out of reach. His head was bowed a little so his long blond hair half-covered his expression.

“No…you don’t need to apologize. You catered to all my…unreasonable demands…” Laurent crossed his arms defensively and his brow furrowed a bit. “The issue is…solely with me and my…” Laurent could not seem to find the words to finishshis thought.

Damen reached out his hand, moving forward a little so that he could lightly cup Laurent’s cheek. “And…you’re sure you’re ok?”

Laurent leaned into his hand.

“I have…difficulty relinquishing control…in those types of situations.” _And no small wonder_. “But…I refuse to be intimidated by intimacy. At least…that’s what I hope for…”

“We don’t have to rush this.” Damen assured him and Laurent gave a wry smile.

“I thought about it all day.” Laurent admitted, “That’s why I didn’t---why I couldn’t talk with you. I needed to build up my resolve. And attempt to lighten the shame…”

“You don’t need to be ashamed.” Damen assured him. “It’s not like in books or movies; it’s different with everyone. I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you by accident.” That relief was indescribable.

“You are not him, Damianos. I know that.” Laurent maneuvered deftly out of Damen’s hold and went to sit on the couch. After a moments’ hesitation, Damen joined him, maintaining a respectable distance though he did hold Laurent’s hand. “I just…had to think this morning and…it’s so… _embarrassing_.” Words began to spill out of Laurent, hot and fast as lava, “You know, normally I tried to avoid reading about s---fucking but I mean, obviously some books are going to feature it and none of them mention just how fucking embarrassing it is to have to… _prepare_ all that and…and sprawl out all naked and…it wasn’t at all like anyone said it was going to be. I’m very intelligent and I thought I could plan…what to do.” He began chewing on the corner of his lip. “Paschal said you weren’t the type to hurt me and I told him he was fucking out of line but…I trust him and…I think…I should trust you and---.” Laurent must have caught sight of Damen’s expression and he immediately colored dark pink. “Stop me from talking before I incriminate myself any further…”

Damen appeased him with a quick kiss on the mouth and then took his turn to speak. “So…about last night…what would you like to do?”

Laurent looked down at the warm, dark hand wrapped around his and chewed on his lip again as he was making an extremely difficult decision. “I think…I can trust you. If…I can tell you about…all the things I told you about then,” he looked up at Damen with something Damen had only seen once before, “I think…if I trusted you with my hea---with my body, you would treat it tenderly.”

Damen felt his heart flip over and he had to stop from appearing overly excited or from jumping to wild, wonderful conclusions. He just squeezed Laurent’s hand. “Are you…asking me to…?”

“Do you need it in writing?” This time when he asked, it was in a much sweeter tone than it had been the previous night. When Damen made no attempt to respond Laurent laughed in disbelief and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my god, you’re going to make me say it? Fine! Today…we can do it your way.”

“ _Today_?” Damen was nearly breathless.

“Stop wagging your tail.” Laurent ordered.

“Would you like me to carry you over the threshold?” Damen asked, allowing himself to smile as he gently tucked a lock of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. Plans were racing through his mind at lightning speed.

“I’ll kill you if you try.” Laurent hissed, but there was no bite behind it. “But…I would like some prior warning before you…erm do anything.” He sounded extremely reluctant to even have to ask, but Damen would never dream of doing otherwise.

“Of course.”

Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand again and this time Laurent squeezed back.

 

Damen had made them a light lunch first after Laurent admitted that the previous day he had purged the entire meal from his body because of some false information he had read online. Damen was less concerned about the food and more concerned about the fact that Laurent was probably desperately hungry. A light meal, he explained, would be easy on the stomach and it would not digest for some time. He did not have to starve himself for this.

Then, while he left Laurent some free time to relax in his library, Damen set about making his preparations. He was currently sweat damp from the steam and heat and had just finished setting all of his necessary items in order. He only cursed himself that he couldn’t get fresh flowers on such short notice.

“What the hell?”

Laurent came into his bathroom and was immediately hit face-first with a blast of steam. Damen smiled at him as he recovered and took it all in.

Thank god Laurent had a positively enormous old clawfoot bathtub, because not many tubs could accommodate Damen’s size and this one could fit the both of them, though Damen’s feet and ankles would have to drape off the ends. He had drawn them a warm bath and placed out towels, soaps, oils, and the things he would use to give Laurent pleasure (some of which he inferred Laurent had purchased the day before).

He had done this for Jokaste before and she had giggled at him for being hopelessly romantic but sighed in contentment when he had washed her hair. He wanted to do the same for Laurent…

“We’re going to take a bath together,” Damen said, removing his shirt in one easy practiced motion, “I’m going to wash you and kiss you,” he removed his pants and kicked them to the side, “I’ll touch you the way you like and then,” with a smile at Laurent’s widening blue eyes, “I’m going to do you properly.” Laurent looked away, either by the embarrassment from Damen’s statement or from the fact that Damen slid off his underwear and was standing naked and unconcerned.

“Must I…get undressed in front of you?” Laurent finally managed to say.

“I can close my eyes if you want.” Damen said, turning around entirely. “Just tell me when I can look.”

When Laurent gave the go-ahead, Damen turned very slowly and, for the first time ever, got a proper good look at Laurent’s naked body.

Trying to maintain his confidence, Laurent tilted up his chin in defiance, as if daring Damen to look, but his hands wandered dangerously close to covering his cock and the tufts of golden fuzz surrounding it. The steam was already dying his white skin rosy pink and he looked…perfect. Frankly, he was better than any dream of Damen’s imagination.

Damen felt his own cock twitch just at the sight, but he locked himself under control. All in due time. Instead, he extended his hand for Laurent to take and led him over to the tub.

“I…half expected rose petals.” Laurent murmured as he looked at the surface of the steaming bath.

“I had…wanted them.” Damen admitted while lowering himself into the water. “But you have no roses in your house. Next time I will…” He offered his hand again to Laurent but Laurent ignored him this time around and got in on his own, settling down in the open spot between Damen’s legs.

He sat very stiffly, back straight and he jumped a bit as Damen cleared his hair from his nape and carefully dripped warm water down Laurent’s back. Laurent glared at him to hide embarrassment and Damen carefully cupped him by the shoulders and leaned him back so that they were pressed together. Gently Damen began to scoop water and massage it into Laurent’s scalp, watching as the droplets slithered down that beautiful back.

Laurent twitched as Damen reached over the side of the tub and shifted a few bottles he had placed strategically within arm’s reach. “What is that?”

“Soap.” Damen replied, showing Laurent the bar in his hand.

He began to lather up his hands and rubbed the suds into Laurent’s skin. Just as before, he traced the curves and hollows, the sharp edges of Laurent’s bones and the latticework of veins that spread under the surface. He found that the lighter he scratched and touched and massaged, the closer Laurent leaned against him. Damen made his touches barely brush the soft hairs on Laurent’s skin and Laurent’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. The scent of almond blossom was heady coming off of Laurent’s skin.

He was relaxing ever so slightly and Damen was finally able to enjoy the beauty of Laurent’s body on his terms. His penis stiffened again…

When Laurent’s head lolled a little on Damen’s chest, Damen saw an opening and began to kiss the length of Laurent’s neck. His heartbeat was not racing with nervousness but only quickened a little when Damen’s lips made contact. Laurent sighed.

“Laurent,” He asked between kisses, “May I touch you?”

“You’re already touching me.” Laurent replied; but he reached for Damen’s hands under the surface of the water and brought them to his chest. The skin there, despite the heat of the steam and the water, was still cool and Damen cupped them with gentle hands.

“If anything I do anything that you don’t like…then…please let me know, ok?” Damen insisted and Laurent’s head bobbed lazily in assent. Damen could scarcely believe it and his breath came out in ragged gasps.

Laurent arched his back as Damen’s tongue hit the cool skin of his throat, and Damen began to lightly massage Laurent’s chest. His thumbs sought out the most sensitive areas, rubbing in light circles, and Laurent gasped. This was probably the first time anyone had played with his nipples before…

Remembering that he preferred light touches, Damen lightly pinched the tip of each and rolled it around lazily between the pads of his fingers. Laurent just opened his mouth at the feeling, though no sound came out, and his skin began to flush warm. Damen shifted his body closer.

The tips were taking on a reddish, swollen look after less than five minutes of touching and Damen decided to shift his focus elsewhere.

He kept his left hand on Laurent’s chest so that he could continue to gently massage with index and middle finger, while his other hand shifted lower. With the very softest touches he could manage, Damen followed the lines of Laurent’s quivering stomach and suckled on Laurent’s right earlobe. Laurent shut his eyes to hide that his eyes were rolling back in his head. Damen had never had such a sensitive lover before.

“That…feels good.” He whispered as Damen stroked the very top of his hipbones.

“Would you like more?” Damen asked, relinquishing Laurent’s ear. “May I…touch you lower?”

Laurent paused and the steam made it hard to breathe. “G-Go on…”

Damen needed no further invitation and---with his semi-free left hand---tilted Laurent’s head to the side so that he could kiss Laurent’s mouth, shallow and sweet so that Laurent could state any concerns in between kisses. His other hand ducked beneath the surface of the water to rub the shuddering curve of Laurent’s hipbones. He did so with a feather-light touch, which somehow seemed to drive Laurent mad, his breath coming in openmouthed gasps.

Damen sucked on Laurent’s tongue as he rubbed small circles in the skin of his hips and thighs. He was trying to memorize the feeling of that area without looking: the golden hair at his hips, soft as velvet; the pliant, unseen flesh of his inner thighs that curved against Damen’s fingers; and finally the base of Laurent’s cock, all pulsing heat and skin like silk.

He was pleased to note that this time it was very stiff and took it as a wonderful sign of Laurent’s arousal…and his own skill. Damen gripped it firmly and Laurent’s entire body hitched, his ass brushing against Damen’s own erection.

“Wait, wait, _wait_!” In between kisses, and Damen released Laurent immediately.

“Did it hurt?” Damen asked unsure of what exactly Laurent had found distasteful. He searched Laurent’s face for an answer. “Please tell me, I won’t do it again.”

Laurent blushed deep and seemed highly reluctant to explain. “It…didn’t hurt…I just…I’m not used to…”

It hit Damen then, and he smiled as he kissed Laurent again. “You almost came? From that?” Laurent glared at him, though it had lost some of its’ edge with him being so sex-saturated. “It’s fine. You can cum first. It will relax you even more.” Before Laurent could argue, Damen took hold of his cock again and began to stroke, slow and agonizing.

The stimulation was too much for Laurent and he wiggled, unsure of where to go.

If he moved backwards, he would be pressed tight against Damen’s hardness, but as he moved forward, it was into the warm tightness of Damen’s hand. Laurent fought it at first, but in the end he relinquished his control and simply held on to Damen’s biceps as his cock and nipples were caressed without ceasing.

The water in the tub splashed over the edge as Laurent’s legs bounced helplessly under the surface of the water.

“ _Wait!_ ” Laurent gasped, digging his fingernails into Damen’s flesh and Damen paused. “The—the water! It will…get _dirty_!”

Damen made a noise of derision deep in his chest and continued what he had been doing before. Later he would show the proper respect to this area…massage it with his tongue, rub the tip, have Laurent sit on his face for hours…but for now he just wanted Laurent to lose himself in the feeling, water be damned.

It happened suddenly and caught Laurent by surprise; his white legs would have kicked out if Damen hadn’t used his own to wrap around Laurent’s and hold them down.

Laurent rode out his orgasm in four sharp thrusts and he released into the water before slumping back against Damen’s chest.

With a possessive smile, Damen leaned down and began to kiss every available inch of Laurent’s skin, ending with a long, deep kiss on the mouth. “Was it good?” He didn’t even need to ask; Laurent looked exactly like a virgin who had just experienced the first flush of sexual pleasure and had enjoyed every moment of it. His eyes were unfocused and he shivered occasionally with the aftershocks of an orgasm, biting his lips to keep from gasping.

“Was it good?” Damen insisted, unwilling to drop the subject.

“Don’t…gloat.” Laurent shot back. “And…yes, it was good.”

“Can you stand?” Damen asked, and he helped Laurent to his feet when he subtly saw Laurent’s knees wobble. Laurent leaned against the wall, exposing his flawless back and legs as Damen pulled the plug on the drain to empty the dirty water. “Now I’m going to…prepare you, ok?”

“Ok…”

Damen unhooked the showerhead and made sure the water was warm and reached over to fetch the lube Laurent had bought the previous day. He twisted his lips when he read the label.

He figured Laurent would still be clean from the previous day, but he figured Laurent would be fastidious about those kinds of things, so he explained the process as he gently, _gently_ washed Laurent out with warm water. Laurent’s left foot was on the rim of the tub and he shuddered as Damen knelt in the empty tub and probed him with one finger, occasionally kissing the curve of Laurent’s ass cheeks.

“You’re clean.” He pronounced cheerfully, planting another kiss.

“Lube then?” Laurent asked a little too coolly. He was trying desperately to hide his embarrassment, though his blushing shoulders gave him away.

“Mmmm…” Damen looked in front of him at, honestly, the loveliest ass he had ever seen. It looked so slender in Laurent’s slacks, but now that it was out, he could not help but change his opinion. “I have a better idea.”

Making sure he could support Laurent in case he was startled, Damen position himself and kissed Laurent squarely on the spot he had just cleaned. Laurent yelped and Damen looked up at him with a smile.

“Can I?” He asked, remembering his promise to tell Laurent everything he would do.

“ _Denied_.”

Damen tried not to pout as he leaned his cheek against one curve. “I’ll be gentle, I promise. And it will feel very good.”

“No. It’s embarrassing.”

“Ok.” Damen let it go; perhaps it was too much to ask for Laurent’s first time. Instead, he reached for the lube. “So here’s an issue I should bring up before we go any further: I can’t wear a condom with this. This is oil-based lube and it will cause the condom to break; if you’d like, we can stop here and run out to buy water based lubricant. I’m fine with waiting.”

“I know you are.” Laurent murmured, his hands flat on the walls. “But…I don’t care about all of that…I just…want to keep going…” Damen nodded and poured a generous amount of the clear gel onto his hand.

The previous night Laurent had been tight. Too tight really…

Damen immediately sought to remedy that and started with his index finger, circling it around the most sensitive spot. There was something therapeutic about the act of giving someone pleasure and Damen relished the feeling.

By the time he had managed three fingers inside, things had changed dramatically.

Laurent could not grip the tiles with his fingernails so he was leaning his entire weight against Damen’s body. He was shuddering in response to Damen stroking his insides, exploring the tightness inside, and Laurent’s dick was hard and slick again. He was so tantalizingly close, even from just a little fingering though he refused to let himself finish in Damen’s mouth.

When he came again, Laurent shivered so violently, he almost fell backwards if Damen hadn’t steadied him with one arm around the waist. His cum, still thick somehow, dripped down the tiles and Damen did not withdraw his fingers until the waves of pleasure had passed.

Damen inspected and found him properly relaxed and gaping this time around.

“How…many times…must I cum before you’re…satisfied?” Laurent wheezed as Damen eased himself up so his front was pressed flush with Laurent’s back.

“Until you faint.” Damen said with all seriousness.

More lube was applied and Damen turned the shower nozzle on again as he nuzzled Laurent’s neck. He wanted to make Laurent scream, but Laurent was not the type to let himself go. All he could get from him were broken gasps and tiny whimpers of pleasure.

“And now?”

“Laurent, can I…?” Damen responded with another question, whispered in the white-pink shell of Laurent’s ear. “Or would you like for me to describe my plans in _vivid_ detail?”

“I’m ready but…can I make one request?”

“By all means.”

Laurent turned his head so he was facing Damen and he looked helplessly hungry deep in his hazy blue eyes. His lips were swollen, overripe fruit from kisses and from him constantly biting them to hold back his voice. “Will you…kiss me first?”

The kiss did not break even after Laurent arched his back so Damen had a proper angle. Quite instinctively, Laurent opened his mouth wide in shock and Damen thrust his tongue in as his cock made the same slide, all the way in this time, he noted with glee.

Their lips separated with an audible ‘pop’ before Damen felt comfortable moving his hips. “How is it? Is it too tight? Are you uncomfortable? Is this position ok?”

Laurent looked at him over his shoulder and he was blinking just a little much. “Damianos…I’ve been meaning to tell you…you ask too many goddamn questions. Just keep it…simple and…love me.” With absolute conviction Laurent leveled him with a disarming, sweet smile. “ _Touch me_.”

Damen thrust once and Laurent squeaked. “It’s not painful?”

“You’re…too _big_!” Laurent seemed to not want to say it, but he couldn’t think of another lie in time and Damen’s cock—possessing a mind of its’ own—throbbed with pride.

Damen needed no further goading or he would cum immediately.

With practiced hips, Damen began to shallowly thrust his hips into the heat of Laurent’s body. He tried different ways to see which would elicit the most pleasurable response, while his hands were busy caressing the front of Laurent’s body, over the hardness at his chest and hips. Damen noticed everything…

He noticed that Laurent liked when he pushed in fast and hard, and then pulled out with agonizing slowness until his tip was almost out; he noticed that when he aimed his thrusts up toward Laurent’s stomach, he hit a good spot and Laurent clenched tight in response, shivering on his tiptoes and pleasure spilling out into the running water.

Laurent was a quiet love maker but even he could not hush himself with the acoustics of the bathroom. Damen’s ears were filled with the calming sound of the warm shower and Laurent’s soft mewling.

As Damen took Laurent’s mouth, Laurent slipped on the tub and would have fallen to his knees if Damen hadn’t caught him. _Shit, the shock made him unbearably tight_ …

Noticing how Laurent’s legs were quivering, Damen felt as though he would slip again the moment Damen set him down; instead, he simply supported Laurent’s chest with one hand and pressed him firm against the wall, hoisting Laurent’s entire body up into the air. Aside from his hand, the only thing holding Laurent up was Damen’s penis and…it honestly felt like it was going to melt off, as hot as Laurent was.

Laurent’s cheek and left hand were pressed against the wall, his right hand was desperately gripping any part of Damen he could find. After a while, his gasps seemed to sound like words…Damen nipped at his neck and got a face full of wet blond hair for his efforts.

Laurent was getting close and Damen could feel it. He began to pet and soothe him gently.

He whispered in Laurent’s ear and touched lightly with tongue and fingers as his hips increased in speed. Laurent’s fingernails dug deep into his flesh and Damen urged Laurent on: “Go on…go on then Laurent. Let it out. Show me.”

Laurent obliged only a few moments later, his toes curling helplessly from where Damen held his legs above the ground. More cum washed down the drain and Damen saw that it was a little thinner the second time; soon, by Damen’s plan, he’d come dry…

Laurent draped in one arm as Damen turned the shower off and fetched a towel, drying Laurent off in between very hungry kisses. In the midst of his post-orgasmic bliss, Laurent looked down at Damen’s still hard penis, which was still slick from his insides.

“You haven’t even come yet.” There was almost a note of respectful awe in his voice.

Damen smiled down at him. “It’s almost sunset; we have the rest of the night.”

Laurent walked a little funny, like his knees were jellied and his eyes were huge as Damen picked him up by the waist so he was dangling a few inches off the ground. “We’re…going the rest of the _night_?”

“I told you.” Damen swiped the lube on his way out of the bathroom. “I’m going to love you until you faint.”

 

It took him seven and a half hours, but Damen finally did it.

On his final orgasm, Laurent’s eyes had fluttered shut and he gone completely and utterly limp in a sleep borne of exhaustion. Gently cupping his head, Damen lowered him back onto the non-drenched duvet and thought how the two of them would have to fuck on a bare mattress the next day while the rest of the bedding was being washed. And speaking of washed…

Without rousing Laurent, Damen fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom and began to sponge Laurent off, starting from his sweaty forehead and working his way down…all the way down.

While he did so, he could not help but notice how nicely balanced and actually muscular Laurent’s body was and that it was laid out bare in front of him. It was something akin to treasure, as he rarely saw Laurent in short sleeves, much less completely naked.

Damen knew some of the secrets of Laurent’s body now.

He moaned when Damen lightly suckled his skin and clenched tight when Damen rubbed his back. Light touches made him wail and he seemed to like it when Damen cradled him, the final orgasm coming when Laurent was riding Damen’s lap, both of them seated and Damen holding him tight. He had not let Damen use his mouth yet but…

They were lovers. They had all the time in the world to discover those delicate little details. Damen grinned foolishly.

He took a light shower to wash the fluids off of his torso before he began to feel the tiredness from his own multiple orgasms. He was beginning to fall asleep the moment he turned out the light and slid on top of the covers.

With one arm, he lazily hooked Laurent into his grasp and pulled him close. It was just as nice to have their dry, bare skin touching as it had been when they were slick and grinding. His hands instinctively wove into soft blond hair.

“Love you…no one will touch you.” He promised, out of habit.

Even in his sleep, at the sound of Damen’s voice, Laurent snuggled closer and made a soft noise of contentment before Damen fell asleep.


	27. Day 26: The Bad Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I'm going to be real with you all. Somewhere in the next 5 chapters, the stalker is going to be revealed. But I'm not going to tell you which chapter it is :)   
> So potential TRIGGER WARNINGS for the last chapters. This is your prior warning and you guys are gonna have to go into each chapter not knowing if/when the bad guy will reveal himself! Haha!  
> In other news, I can't believe we only have 4 chapters left after this! It's such a bittersweet feeling and kudos to all of you who have managed to stay interested for so long! I hope this final arc is worth the wait ;)

** Day 26: The Bad Boys **

When Damen woke up the room was a pleasant orangey-yellow and he had the very distinctive feeling of all of his appendages feeling very heavy, save for his dick. It had been so thoroughly wrung out of all its’ juice that it felt light in comparison. Laurent was still pressed up against him, with one arm thrown over Damen’s torso and his flowery-pink dick was resting on Damen’s thigh. As he slept, he made tiny cooing noises deep in his chest and Damen was enchanted.

He recounted the events of the previous night as he traced light touches down the planes of Laurent’s flawless back. Laurent made the sweetest sounds in response and Damen continued at length…until he checked his phone.

“ _Shit!_ ”

Laurent jerked awake, eyes wide and hair wild as he looked for the source of the commotion. “What? What is it?”

Damen had half-sat up in his shock and was gazing sheepishly at his phone. He turned the screen towards Laurent. “We overslept.” His digital clock showed that Laurent’s classes had started over two hours ago and the two of them had slept away most of their early afternoon.

Laurent buried his face into a pillow and glowered, though the expression was fake. “Lover… Damianos,” the glower broke and a Cheshire smile replaced it, “if I can walk to my kitchen without limping then I will be very, _very_ surprised.”

Damen’s panic left him as quickly as it had come and a possessive, delighted grin broke across his face. Instinctively, Damen eased himself on top of Laurent’s lean body and wound their fingers together; he buried his face in that soft golden tangle and began to kiss Laurent’s scalp. Laurent let out a bubble of laughter that sounded so unfamiliar on him and Damen could not help but laugh and kiss him in return. Wiry arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer as if the two of them were trying to sink into the bed sheets.

“You…liked it?” Damen asked hopefully. Laurent was never one for straightforward answers but this was the one time he really hoped Laurent was honest with him and not just with his cheeks.

“I…It was embarrassing but…I liked it…very much…” Laurent admitted and had to look away when Damen beamed. “I didn’t think fuc— _sex_ could be like that…”

Damen was overcome with delight and wordlessly let Laurent know.

When they pulled apart, Laurent held Damen down so that their faces were only millimeters apart. He was grinning so widely, it didn’t even look like Laurent.

“I don’t want to leave this bed.” He admitted, looking at Damen’s face.

“Me either.” Damen rubbed himself all over Laurent; cats liked to do that to mark their territory. “But we need to get up,” _a kiss on the forehead_ , “and wash your sheets,” _a kiss on the nose_ , “and cook you a late lunch.” _A light kiss on the mouth_. “Does that sound good to you?”

“I can’t move.” Laurent said accusingly, snuggling down deeper in rebellion.

Damen kissed his shoulders and trailed kisses down his spine; Laurent’s hips wiggled in response. “I’ll carry you out of here.” To make good on his word, Damen gently hoisted Laurent up so that they were almost entwined again. “And…if you ache, I’ll rub it for you, ok?”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Laurent snarled without conviction and curled himself up against Damen. “And grab my clothes when you take me out.”

“You’re bossy for a truant.” Damen joked, supporting Laurent by the waist with one hand so he could pick up Laurent’s clothes with the other. “Missed a few days last week and now today…and with as little as you study?” Laurent snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

Laurent watched Damen’s back as he went to fetch a clean pair of underwear and Damen wondered if he was admiring his handiwork of tender red scratches all up and down Damen’s back.

“I have to live up to the stereotype of being a dumb blond.”

Laurent had also managed to slip on a pair of his designer label briefs and a baggy white shirt by the time Damen had turned his attention back to him. He looked sweet. “What do you want for breakfast Laurent?”

Laurent requested something with the left over strawberries and so Damen baked him a crumble with nuts and cinnamon and coconut flour, pouring the slightly sweet granules over the quartered berries and added a slight touch of cream cheese. It was sweet, but not too sweet for Laurent.

Damen sat on the couch to eat and Laurent rested most of his torso on Damen’s lap. He seemed incapable of sitting up straight.

“Why strawberries?” Damen asked, taking a spoonful of his own which he had sprinkled with brown sugar.

“I read…” The tops of Laurent’s ears were red, “that chocolate strawberries were aphrodisia—don’t give me that look!” He shouted on seeing Damen’s expression and the blush was back, “I was so goddamn nervous! I was willing to try anything to make it easier!”

“How long have you been planning this?”

“I refuse to give you the satisfaction.” Laurent replied and Damen ruffled his hair in response.

“You know…I’m a pretty simple guy,” Damen said and Laurent made a noise like he believed the statement to be true, “If you come out of the bathroom with your hair in a mess, and your cheeks all pink, wearing one of my shirts…” He shuddered in delight at the thought, “that will do the trick.”

“How distasteful,” Laurent responded, though Damen noticed he moved so his shirt slid up a little on his hip. He was skilled at this already and Damen felt a twinge of panic for the future of his self-control.

When the two of them finished their breakfast, Damen was kind enough to take and wash the empty bowls before he returned to the source of his addiction. Laurent only made a slight expression of discomfort as Damen rolled him onto his bare chest and began to massage the small of his back.

“So…since we’ve effectively slept through our entire morning and afternoon…what do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

Laurent was leaning into the gentle rubbing as he thought.

“I’m fine with this, though…” Laurent pressed his face in between the hard mounds of Damen’s chest, “I would like to take a shower and…you can join me…if you’d like…” Ah, so this was going to be his life now: constantly caught off guard by Laurent’s sweet, natural overtures. He didn’t know if he could survive the constant blood rush to his dick.

“I would love to.” Damen managed to choke out after a long, contemplative pause. “And then?”

“Whatever…you like.” Laurent said.

Damen would like to do a lot of things. Laurent was probably expecting him to request something sexual, but Damen had something else in mind when he looked down at Laurent’s charming face.

“Will you read to me? While I play with your hair?”

Laurent looked utterly shocked; whatever he had expected, Damen’s choice was not it. His ears were strawberry red. “Sure…ok…yeah…If that’s all you want from me…”

“I’ll still touch you in the shower if you want.” Damen whispered in Laurent’s ear.

Laurent blushed.

 

“How is it that you are able to move and I feel as if I have no spine?” Laurent asked in annoyance from where he was confined on the couch of the library. He had a heating pad on his lower back, pajama pants rolled up to his knees and one of Damen’s baggier T-shirts, which almost hit his knees. Aside from the fact that walking made him wobble, Laurent did not seem at all put out by the fact that he had to spend the day indoors.

“Only one part of me is numb.” Damen laughed at him from where he was stacking up a small pile of books. Laurent gave him a long look, though his eyes flicked to Damen’s hips in anticipation of his answer. “I can’t feel my fingers. In fact, I think they’re still pruned fro---.”

A pillow sailed across the room and Damen ducked before it hit the side of his face.

Laurent glared as he apparently didn’t like to be reminded of how Damen’s fingers had tickled him _so_ generously not but a half hour before. They had not gone all the way though, as Laurent was quite shy.

Damen handed Laurent his books and then slapped the pillow onto the top of his head. “I believe you dropped this.”

“Good boy.” Laurent said in the tone he reserved for puppies. “And the cards?”

Damen had indeed found a deck of unopened cards in one of the random end tables and wondered why Laurent had even purchased them to begin with. Maybe they had been a well-meant gift but Laurent had probably never had anyone over to play games with. It would be hard for him to play the game while he was lying on his stomach but…

“Why do you want the cards out?” Damen asked as he opened the box. The cards came out crisp and new in his hands. “Are you going to show me a magic trick?”

“I want to play a game with you.” Laurent replied. “Loser has to do something for the winner.” Laurent colored bright when Damen gave him an intense look. “Nothing about… _that_! Just like…questions or small favors.” Ah, he was childishly sweet in that way, but Damen kind of liked the idea of playing an elementary game with Laurent and asking him to say cute things.

“I’m fine with that.” He responded, expertly shuffling the cards, “So long as you’re prepared to lose.”

Laurent’s eyes blazed immediately with the challenge.

Though he was originally going to go easy on Laurent, since he was essentially bedridden, Damen found out quickly that he could not underestimate his feisty golden hellcat. They played a game where they place down cards rapidly and the first person to slap the pile when a jack was placed won. The first round went to Laurent as he saw the jack first and slapped his hand down with cobra speed and accuracy. Damen did not even have time to react and Laurent smiled triumphantly.

“My win. Now…what should I have you do first?” Damen only waited patiently while Laurent pretended to wickedly consider his options. “How strong are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you think you could lift this couch with me on it?” Laurent asked, looking at Damen’s exposed arms. Damen vaguely remembered Laurent tracing the lines and bulges of his body and wondered if Laurent was the type to appreciate a muscular body.

If so, Damen was not about to disappoint.

He heaved himself up and Laurent jolted as the couch jerked upward a few inches off the ground. Damen smiled at him and Laurent’s expression became a little heated at the show of power.

“This is easy.” Damen responded setting the couch back down.

The next win was his own and Damen had something less wicked in mind, though Laurent looked panicked for a moment. Damen leaned in closer. “Will you tell me you love me?” He had yet to hear such a thing from Laurent and he wanted to hear it.

Laurent looked away. “Why…do you even want to hear it…? You should know already…”

“I want to hear it.”

Laurent glared at him from the corner of his eye. “Fucker…I find that…I like you quite a lot…bordering on lo---oh for god’s sake, don’t give me that look.”

“I’ll take it.” Damen responded gleefully, kissing the tip of Laurent’s nose.

They went back and forth in this vein for quite some time; Laurent had Damen rub his feet, read a poem that reminded Damen of him, and extracted a promise for Damen to learn to make a certain favorite soup of his…something _l’oignon_. He asked for dares, Damen preferred truths and Damen’s requests were tamer by comparison.

He spent a long while kissing each freckle on Laurent’s cheeks and together they came up with a twenty-point bucket list of things they wanted to do together when they were no longer having to live looking over their shoulders. Amongst other things, Laurent wanted to go to the beach together and bike along the coast, travel spontaneously to another country, and cook an entire four-course dinner for Damen; Damen wanted to see Laurent in the snow and make him laugh until he couldn’t stand and wanted to buy matching socks.

Although Laurent rolled his eyes at the last one, Damen couldn’t help but love writing these things.

It gave him hope for a future together where they didn’t have to be on constant alert. Where they could just… _be_. It gave them something concrete for their relationship and Damen wished to add other things to the list: search for an apartment, move in together, maybe get a dog, spend an entire day making love…but he felt those would be too much for Laurent to handle, so he held back.

Damen enjoyed a long run of victories until Laurent practically dove off the couch to secure his own win. His eyes glittered and he took a moment to compose himself. But when he did, Damen was truly unprepared for his next question.

“You’re…I guess bisexual, yes?” Damen nodded. “Who was the first…I guess the first man who you found yourself attracted to?” Damen knew his expression was pained and it only stoked Laurent’s curiosity. “When…did you realize?”

“ _Damn it_.” Damen groaned. He wanted to dodge the question but he wanted to be honest with Laurent as well… “So…I realized after I…kissed a boy for the first time…”

“Who was it?” Laurent asked.

“You have to win to ask that.” Damen said, purposefully defensive. It had somewhat of the opposite of effect as Laurent was particularly fired up about the game and won easily the next round. Damen slumped and his voice trailed off into a whisper. “The first boy I kissed was…erm…your brother…”

It took a moment for the words to truly sink in and then Laurent had to bury his face in the couch cushions, he was laughing so hard. Damen knew his face must have been very red as he tried to regain control of the situation.

“We were about eleven? Or twelve? But it was just…I was curious and he was curious and so we…kissed at one of the company events behind a pot of orchids---Laurent, will you stop laughing at me?” His own voice was choked with embarrassed laughter so it was not very effective at calming Laurent down. “If you tell Auguste I told you, I will…Auguste will _kill_ me and probably swear you to silence.”

“You two _hate_ each other!” Laurent gasped, getting up and resting on his elbows. “And _he_ was your gay---well no, bisexual awakening? Oh my god, it’s too perfect. You kissed my brother!”

“You seem remarkably unconcerned.” Damen giggled in spite of himself.

“This is the funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”

“I’ve answered your questions, let’s go again.” Damen pushed on, desperate to change the subject. But he doubted Laurent would soon forget this information. He supposed it would come back to haunt him at some point.

They played a few more rounds before Laurent caught him off guard again.

The two of them had gone a long while without seeing a jack, so both of them were on edge. When it appeared, Laurent actually slid off the couch in his haste to slap it and his yelp of surprise was enough to distract Damen, who caught him before he hit the floor.

“Are you okay Laurent?”

“My win,” Laurent said with a victorious smile, holding the card between his index and middle finger. Damen kissed his nose before righting him. “And…I have a dare for you.” Damen was interested to hear it as Laurent bit the corner of his lip and averted his eyes the way he did when he was nervous.

When he looked up at Damen through his long, lashes, Damen knew immediately that no matter what Laurent asked of him, he would do it. He was putty under that dark blue gaze.

“Tomorrow…I’m going to have my session with Paschal and…will you sit in with me and talk with us?” His voice wilted a little as Damen felt his own expression souring a little. “I know you have some protests but…I think it would be good for us. I think it would make you feel better…”

Damen forced a smile to put Laurent at ease, though the thought of seeing a therapist was still distasteful to him, he wanted to uphold the rules of the game and make Laurent happy.

“Ok. Yeah. I’d be happy to.” Laurent raised an eyebrow in apparent surprise over Damen’s easy response. “Only because you asked though.” Laurent smiled wide at Damen’s promise and for a moment Damen wondered if it had been another test to see if he would be angry by such a request. “And at the risk of incriminating myself any further, I think we should stop playing this game.”

Laurent looked at the cards. “And…now, what are we going to do. Are we going to f—have sex?”

Damen put one hand on the small of Laurent’s back, where he knew it ached, and he felt Laurent’s skin flinch away from his touch. “Mmm…do you _want_ to have sex? Be honest.”

“No.” Laurent admitted.

“We don’t have to then.” Damen said kindly. “I love you and there are other ways I can show you my love. There is never a need for you to force yourself to have sex with me.”

“C-Can you touch me without actually… _touching_ me?” Laurent asked, gesturing with his hands by way of explanation. Damen understood completely. Laurent wanted to be held and cuddled without the risk of Damen attempting to finger him or caress him. He liked the idea.

“Of course. Can I lie down with you?”

Laurent shifted to make room and Damen crushed himself onto the couch, maneuvering so that Laurent could rest on his torso. He kept his wandering hands away from Laurent’s erogenous zones, but instead played with hair and rubbed Laurent’s back.

“Thank you…” Laurent murmured, snuggling in deeper.

They fell asleep in that position and Damen did not touch Laurent, save for that gentle petting.


	28. Day 27: The Compromise

** Day 27: The Compromise **

When Damen woke up the next day, even though it was beautiful, he felt a small chip of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at Laurent who was sleeping beside him and wondered if this was the feeling he had endured every Wednesday since his therapy with Paschal had started. It was a hell of a burden, Damen thought, to know that in a few hours he would have to bare the most intimate parts of his soul and hope that Paschal wouldn’t judge him for his weaknesses. It was a terrifying feeling but…

If Laurent, if his lover was strong enough to do it and support him, then Damen could surely find the strength as well. He fought the panic back down and regretfully began to get up and start his day.

As Damen leaned down to kiss Laurent on the lips and cheeks Laurent made a little coo of satisfaction that hit Damen right in the heart; conversely, as Damen unwound his limbs from Laurent’s, Laurent’s brow furrowed in sleepy indignation and he wiggled closer to where Damen’s body heat had been only a few moments before. He really was painfully adorable.

It was a shame to leave this sight, but Damen forced himself away for the sake of breakfast.

Today he made green tea and poured it into iced glasses so that the two of them would have energy for their dual therapy session, and the glasses sweated while he prepared the rest of the meal. Laurent was already awake and sipping his iced tea when Damen finished preparing the eggs on toast and spring asparagus cooked in olive oil and sea salt; it was a relatively light meal by his standards, but he was feeling a little nauseous…

“You left me alone.” Laurent said accusingly, his imaginary golden ears pressed back in faux annoyance.

Damen placed the plate bleeding olive oil, butter and golden yolk in front of Laurent and kissed the spot between those invisible ears. “If I waited for you to get up, we wouldn’t get up until noon.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

Laurent sawed into his egg-toast with the vigor of someone who had been exercising intensely as of late. Damen, on the other hand, was not very hungry and nibbled on his food, preferring to watch Laurent eat instead. Laurent was observant and looked at the untouched food.

“Is something wrong with you today?” His tone was gentler now. “You haven’t eaten anything…” Damen smiled at him and hoped it was reassuring but Laurent knew better. “Are you nervous?”

“Now I know how you felt in those days before your sessions,” Damen admitted, “those Wednesdays before, I thought…I thought you were being overdramatic about the entire thing but…now that I’m about to go myself…I understand your nervousness.”

Laurent flushed a little at his empathy.

“It…honestly, it isn’t comfortable. But…I begrudgingly admit that the sessions do help, in a way. You just…have to trust Paschal.”

“Your worst nightmare.” Damen said with a grin.

“I won’t let him scare you too badly.” Laurent responded, putting down the knife and fork and choosing to sop up the olive oil with his crust. “Trust me.”

“Will you give me a reward?” Damen asked cheekily.

“Depends on what it is.” Laurent’s guard was up; he was still not used to the idea that Damen would never request sexual favors in return for his compliance in this. Damen intended to hammer that thought out.

“Will you read to me again when we come home?”

Damen liked the sound of Laurent’s voice and he felt like it would calm him after the therapy. Laurent agreed and Damen kissed his left ear as he went to gather up Laurent’s empty plate and glass. It was unusual that Laurent had cleaned his plate while Damen’s food remained half-eaten.

The ride to Paschal’s office, which had seemed so relaxing in the past, was short and Damen’s mind was racing with all the uncomfortable subjects that could come up behind closed doors. As opposed to the other times, however, Laurent had requested his hand and Damen’s hand was now interlocked with Laurent’s. Laurent was rubbing light, soothing circles on Damen’s skin in response.

The cab driver wisely chose to ignore the several instances when Damen’s nervousness overcame him and he had to kiss Laurent’s hand in response.

“How are you feeling?” Laurent asked.

“Mmmm…it’s hard to explain.” Damen did not want to admit he was anxious as all hell. But Laurent nodded as though he understood. He probably _did_ understand.

Damen’s heart was in his throat the moment they stepped into the familiar waiting room, but Laurent had not yet let go of his hand. Paschal noticed as he came out of his office, his smile still in place; in fact, it only got wider when he noticed that the two of them were holding hands and Damen’s anxiety was relieved a little. He had forgotten just how cordial Paschal was.

“Laurent. Damen. It’s been a while. I trust your break was relaxing?”

“You…might say that.” Laurent said, obviously think of all that had transpired in a little more than a week. Honestly, it was a whirlwind of events that left Damen reeling when he tried to remember. “We can talk about it in the future but I was wondering, Paschal, if today…Damen could join us in our session?”

Paschal looked at Damen with polite surprise but he smiled not long after, his professional smile: soft and reassuring. “Of course. Please, you are more than welcome to join us.”

Laurent gave Damen’s hand a reassuring squeeze and led him into the office.

Damen had only been in the office once before and it had been to make sure that the office security had not been compromised; he saw it in a new light now. At least it was more relaxing than Laurent’s uncle’s office.

“No couch we have to recline on?” Damen asked, semi-joking as he recalled therapists’ offices from the movies. Laurent could not help but laugh and Paschal grinned wider.

“No, no. The two of you can just sit in those chairs over here.”

It was very informal and relaxed. Paschal offered them both tea and sat opposite them while Laurent did not let go of Damen’s hand and even pulled it up onto his lap to further show off. Then, without preamble, Laurent launched into most of what had happened since they had last met, including the stalker breaking into his house, their time at the lake house, and even brutal honesty about their question and answer session, though—out of courtesy to Damen—he mostly described his responses to Damen’s questions.

Paschal asked occasion questions to spur Laurent’s memory but the question session really seemed to interest him. “You finally decided to trust Damen. I knew you had talked about it before but…why on this occasion?”

Laurent squeezed Damen’s hand and Damen saw his ears were a most attractive shade of pink. “Because…I realized he is a lot like me…You told me once that everyone is struggling in their own way and I just…” He took a deep breath. “In the beginning I thought he was so large and strong that there was no way he could empathize with my pain. That day…he trusted me with his pain so…I felt it was fair to trust him with mine.”

Paschal nodded sagely; he understood it all.

“And Damen—if you don’t mind my asking—how did that make you feel?”

Damen felt the feeling well up inside him and it burst out of him before he could stop himself. “I _love_ him…” Laurent laughed again and Paschal coughed to hide his.

“Ah, yes that is readily apparent. Is that special to you? In a way?”

“It is.” Damen’s throat choked up as he tried to put into words why loving Laurent was so special to him. “Because…I thought I’d never be able to fall in love and…trust the person I love. But Laurent, he never judged me for being weak.”

“You can overcome your perceived weaknesses by sharing with the people you love and surrounding yourself with acceptance. It’s excellent that you trust Laurent and feel comfortable sharing your emotions with him. But, may I ask why you feel you can’t trust people you love?”

It was his job, Damen explained, how he could only trust a select few and then, after another glance at Laurent, he told Paschal about Kastor and Jokaste.

“It’s horrible that such a thing was done to you.” Paschal said shaking his head. “Betrayal by the ones you love is no laughing matter. It is something that can deeply affect the way you live and trust people. And if you keep the emotions inside without addressing them then…it can cause depression, low self-esteem, and difficulty forming new relationships. I know it can be difficult to admit that this experience has deeply affected you but,” Paschal gestured to their interlinked hands with a smile, “I think for the sake of your new relationships, it is extremely beneficial to talk about these things. If you would like, I would love for you to join us in future sessions…or schedule your own if you feel uncomfortable sharing with others around, we can have one-on-one sessions.”

“Sometimes…things I do with Laurent remind me of her.” Damen admitted. “Some of the things we did together remind me. But I’m not in love with her anymore this is just…”

“Of course.” Paschal nodded. “It’s a trauma. She was an important part of your life, as is Laurent. And I’m sure some of your memories with her are happy ones. It's ok to think of these things occasionally so long as you remember that it is all in the past and to treasure the one you love now.”

It was not what he had expected, and all the anxiety that had been building up inside of him blew out swiftly and left him feeling light and relieved. As if Laurent could feel it as well, he smiled up at Damen and there was a delighted sparkle in his eyes.

So much time had elapsed without him realizing that Damen was actually surprised when Paschal and Laurent only chatted a little more about school and Laurent’s anxiety levels in general, before ending the session. An hour had passed by in the blink of an eye.

Damen was a bit unsteady when he got to his feet to shake Paschal’s hand.

“I hope I was able to help you, even a little.” Paschal admitted looking sheepish. “To be honest, people like you—who spend all their time protecting the well-being of others—rarely give a thought to their own health. I think, despite your past, you have a lot of potential for a good future.”

Damen grabbed Laurent’s hand so that he could kiss it. “The one I love is an excellent example of that.” Paschal coughed again as Laurent blushed and rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

“I hope to see the two of you in good health next week.”

The moment they had taken their leave of Paschal and were outside the office itself, Damen crushed Laurent up into a bear hug and Laurent just let it happen, patting Damen’s back in response. “That was…not bad at all.”

“See? Told you so.” Laurent said, refusing to let Damen forget his victory, even in this heartfelt situation.

“Paschal is so kind and…I feel… _lighter_.”

“Sometimes the sessions are frustrating,” Laurent admitted, “but I do feel that way whenever I leave. You never realize how… _nice_ it is to talk to someone who will actually listen to you and…wants to help you…”

Damen immediately thought of Laurent’s uncle and what a completely different ‘counseling’ experience from what they had done today. He pulled back a little so that he could run his hands through Laurent’s hair. He knew his expression was probably choked with emotion. “I wish I could have protected you…”

“Idiot.” Laurent lightly punched Damen’s shoulder before resting his head on the spot he had just hit. “You can make it up to me. Don’t let anyone touch me.”

 

A little after dinner, Damen sat at Laurent’s computer, typing up an official letter to Auguste explaining his intention to stay with his brother until the stalker was caught. The letter was dripping with passive-aggression, like the passage where he mentioned he would accept any information on the investigation in lieu of payment; or the part where he made it clear that if anyone wished to question his decision, they could first take it up with Laurent and attempt to best him in an argument or they could do their best to remove Damen from the apartment by force.

Damen smiled when he thought of Auguste seething as he read it and he had never been so excited to hit the ‘send’ button in his life.

He stretched out to his full length in the chair and glanced to the door to see Laurent waiting for him with arms crossed. “Why do you look so damn pleased with yourself?”

“I’ve just been making your brother’s life less pleasant.” Laurent rolled his eyes. “And with the added benefit of being able to do it from a distance. I may email him more often.” Damen and Laurent had been remarkably sweet to each other after returning from Paschal’s office.

“Just so long as you don’t kiss him again.” _Evil hellcat_.

“Shut up!”

Laurent giggled at Damen’s embarrassment and annoyance over his sordid past and unfolded himself from where he was standing. “If you’re finished antagonizing my brother do you want to go into the library and read together? I’m ready whenever you are…”

Damen shut the laptop with a smile and immediately got to his feet. Laurent carefully did not move but just stared up at Damen with a sweet grin until Damen was abreast of him with a hand that snaked quickly around Laurent’s slim waist. “If you stand up on your tiptoes, I can give you a kiss.”

Laurent stepped on his foot. “ _Must_ you be such a dick?”

Damen gave him the kiss and then followed him to the library, where he already had a selection of books waiting. Laurent waited for Damen to sit on the large armchair, but Damen had other plans.

He instead curled up on the floor with his head by the cushion of the chair. “Sit down. You can rest the book on my head and I’ll put my head on your knees.” When Laurent looked as though he was going to tease Damen, Damen tilted his head and tried to look cute. “I want to touch you.”

Laurent bit his lip but sat down without further complaint. Damen rested his cheek on Laurent’s left knee and felt a book settle on the top of his head. As Laurent began to read in his crystalline voice, Damen stroked fingers up and down his white calf; he liked that some switch had been thrown in Laurent and he was now showing off his legs and forearms in the comfort of his own apartment.

Damen nuzzled his head against Laurent’s leg occasionally and felt Laurent flinch at his touch. But it wasn’t him flinching away; it was more of a shudder up his body at the gentle, light touch.

Damen felt a little wicked and made his touch lighter.

Laurent shifted in response, though his voice did not falter. Damen took it as a challenge.

As Laurent continued reading, Damen tipped his head back higher and higher onto Laurent’s thighs, nuzzling any bare skin he found. Laurent’s voice only hitched once in the entire time but Damen felt his skin shivering under the attention. He giggled like a fool when the spine of the book came down hard on the top of his head when Laurent finally got sick of his playing.

“Will you focus? Or am I going to have to kick you in the head?” There was a breathless quality to his voice.

Damen kissed his foot in response. “If it means I get to feel your skin more…by all means, kick me to your hearts’ desire.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Damen decided to behave for a bit and sat still, closing his eyes so that he could truly appreciate the tone and cadence of Laurent’s voice. He could also feel Laurent’s pulse throbbing through his skin. He was shifting a bit and Damen grinned to himself. He knew these symptoms.

After the page turned, he felt safe hazarding a look and saw that Laurent was staring hard and hungry at his face. His glance went back to the book immediately, but Damen had already seen and he was prepared.

He twisted his body so that he was facing Laurent and Laurent twitched a little at seeing how close Damen’s face was to his crotch (or at least that was what Damen hoped). Still, his expression was carefully annoyed.

“You make it impossible to read, you know?”

“I have other things on my mind,” Damen admitted.

“Like what?”

Laurent irritably lifted the book so that Damen could move up next to his ear and whisper exactly what he had in mind. Laurent had not let him do it so far and Damen felt the heat coming off his head indicating the blush had come with force. When he drew back, Laurent was bordering on scarlet but his gaze was intense.

“What do you think?” Damen asked. “I promise I’m good at it.”

“ _Fuck you_!” Laurent said it more out of embarrassment than anything else. “You’re so cocky, it makes me crazy.” Damen smiled and rested his head on Laurent’s bare knee; he needed time to decide. Laurent mulled it over for a moment. “You’ll stop if I say so?”

“Yep.”

“If it ruins this chair, you’ll buy me a new one.”

“Naturally.” Damen would make him a chair from scratch if he was given this opportunity.

“Ok…Don’t look at my face during.” Laurent said finally accepting Damen’s offer.

“Mmmm that’s torture.” Damen sighed. “I won’t do it but…in return will you keep reading for me?” Laurent looked flabbergasted and Damen explained before Laurent could immediately shoot down the idea. “I like the sound of your voice. It’s so soothing…” Laurent rolled his eyes at the request but…

“Ok…I’ll do it.”

Damen felt his heart leap in his chest over the sheer excitement of what he was about to do. It was honestly one of his favorite things to do and he truly had to restrain himself to keep too much joy from pouring into his voice. Gently, he began to give Laurent directions: “Ok, Laurent move your hips to the edge of the chair here. Yeah, like that. Ok now lift up your hips—you can rest your legs on my back. Yeah, that’s good…hang on.”

With practiced hands, Damen hooked his fingers on the waistband of Laurent’s short and pulled them off slowly, giving Laurent time to change his mind if he so chose. But he didn’t and the shorts were tossed to the side.

“This position is…” Laurent’s voice was a little shaky.

“ _Great_.” Damen breathed and Laurent shifted when the air hit his bare skin. “This position is great.”

The position in question was Laurent near-reclining in the chair with his ass at the very edge of the cushion, naked from the waist down; Damen was kneeling in front of him, with Laurent’s legs draped across his shoulders and his face inches from Laurent’s dick. From the back, it probably looked like Damen was kneeling in worship, which…technically he intended to do. He wet his lips at what was in front of him.

Damen had wanted to eat Laurent the moment he had gotten him in bed, but Laurent had been too shy at first. He was not going to let this opportunity pass him by.

Damen was transfixed by what was in front of him and the possibilities. But he still had the presence of mind to tell Laurent, “You can start reading whenever you like. The story was just getting good.”

Laurent got a bit of a shaky start finding his spot in the book where they had left off and, out of respect for that, Damen let him read a bit before he started.

Then he allowed himself to explore just with his mouth and lips. First he traced the taut tendons of Laurent’s inner thigh and sucked delicately, watching as red splashes bloomed on the white expanse. Laurent’s voice was carefully controlled as Damen played with the soft curves of his thighs.

Then Damen carefully nosed at Laurent’s cock, feeling it rise a bit under his attentions. Laurent flubbed a word but continued reading.

Damen was no longer listening to the story at this point but was just listening to Laurent’s voice. His lips ran the length of Laurent’s cock, tracing the thickest vein all the way to the tip. The tip was beginning to swell and Damen was charmed by how Laurent’s penis matched the color of his cheeks.

Damen waited until the tip rested on his lips and then he flicked his tongue across the top. Laurent gasped mid-word.

He suckled expertly at the tip for a while, listening for those telltale gasps and stumbling over words that became less frequent as Laurent got used to the stimulation. Something trickled out and Damen lapped it up before sliding the entire length of Laurent’s dick into his mouth. Laurent gasped in the middle of his sentence and he dug his heels into Damen’s back, his hips quivering with the need to thrust. Wiry golden hair brushed against Damen’s nose before he pulled back with a wet slurp. Laurent shuddered.

“You stopped reading?”

Laurent paused for a moment and Damen regretted that he was not allowed to look at Laurent’s face, because he was sure the view was tantalizing. Then began the silent tug-of-war between the two of them.

Laurent attempted to read and pretend that the pleasure he was receiving was not affecting him in the least while Damen was doing his damn best to make Laurent drop the book and just lose his mind. Laurent’s toes were digging into his back but his voice was mostly unbothered as Damen established a rhythm. His tongue explored every lovely curve that pulsed in his mouth and sucked with an intensity to milk his lover dry. Laurent’s voice began to sound a little breathless.

When Damen pulled back again, Laurent dribbled a little out of the tip and Damen admired his handiwork. Laurent looked full to bursting.

Damen trailed his tongue further down and he was finally rewarded for his efforts.

Laurent was mid-sentence: “…I would stare at the grains of light suspe—ah, ah, _ah!_ ” His little cry of surprise was so genuine and unexpected that Damen almost broke his promise and looked up.

“Everything ok?” He asked, wiping his chin.

“Fine.” Laurent sounded as though he had just been able to come up for air. “S-Suspended in that silent space,” Damen went back to what he was doing and reached the small pink spot he was becoming more intimate with, “struggling to s-see into my own he—ah, _AH_!” Damen licked the length between Laurent’s peachy soft buttocks and Laurent finally couldn’t hold back, “ _heart_. What— _ah_!” Damen’s tongue circled the spot and probed it gently, “did I— _ohhhh_ …want? What did— _ahhhn_ —others want from,” Laurent’s legs were shaking against his body and Damen could feel something melting high up on his left cheek, “f-from me?”

Damen was having a hard time recalling when he had ever been able to best Laurent in a battle of wills, but today he would mark as the day his tongue beat Laurent’s.

For as his tongue wiggled its’ way through the tight ring of muscle, Laurent’s pleasure won out and he stopped reading in lieu of whimpering. The book hit Damen’s head as it dropped from Laurent’s fingers, but they both had other things on their minds.

Damen lapped and wormed his tongue in as far as it would go and Laurent clenched tight around him. His hips thrust in desperation he tried to find friction for his cock against Damen’s hair and Damen felt some of his curls become slicker.

Damen sucked on the opening until it was strawberry-red and swollen as though Damen had been thrusting into him violently for hours. Laurent’s body was limp and his legs twitched helplessly as Damen moved his attentions back up to Laurent’s cock.

There was a sharp little wail the moment Damen took Laurent back in his mouth and Laurent came in three quick twitches, which Damen sucked at desperately. Apparently the feeling of his first proper licking was too much for Laurent to handle.

“Good?” He asked when Laurent’s legs had released the vice-like grip on his head and his whole body went slack against the chair and Damen’s body. Damen had certainly enjoyed the experience; he was counting down the minutes until he could do it again.

“I…” Laurent finally caught his breath, “I won’t…give you the satisfaction…”

“I would expect nothing less,” Damen responded gently rubbing the red-hot tip of Laurent’s penis. Laurent wiggled restlessly at the sensation. “I, for one, like the view down here.”

“Quit teasing…and hand me my pants.”

Damen acquiesced, unwrapping Laurent’s legs from around his back before standing up to go retrieve his discarded shorts and underwear. When he turned back, Laurent had stood on shaking legs and was dismayed to find his own juices and Damen’s saliva sliding down his legs.

One concerned glance to Damen was all it took and Damen slipped off his shirt immediately to sop up the wetness. His hand lingered a bit and Laurent looked at him in amazement.

“What is it?”

“Your shirt…” Laurent responded.

“I have others.” Damen shrugged and resumed his gentle cleaning.

“Still like the view?” Laurent asked.

“Very much.” Damen had no shame about being honest. “You have an ass like a Japanese peach.” To be fair it was true; Laurent’s waist was slender but the curve of his peachy-pink ass was full, with the same velvety feel. Laurent laughed and then made a funny noise as liquid ran down his leg. Damen mopped it with a grin.

When Laurent was dry enough to pass inspection Damen stood up and planted a kiss on Laurent’s neck before holding out his shorts and underwear. It was surreal to have Laurent standing in front of him, naked from the waist down.

Laurent looked at them and then up at Damen.

“I think…” Damen waited patiently as Laurent collected his thoughts, “I think we won’t be needing those anytime soon…”

“Oh?” Damen asked, raising one eyebrow.

Laurent made his meaning very obvious as he plucked the shorts and underwear from Damen’s hands and tossed them over his shoulder. Then his lips were crushed up against Damen’s and Damen magically found his hands cupping the peach-pink butt he had been admiring not too long ago. Laurent gave a little hop and Damen hoisted him into the air so that he could wrap his legs around Damen’s waist.

The book was all but forgotten as Damen held Laurent aloft with one hand, the other fumbling with their remaining clothes as he carried Laurent into the bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are trying to figure out this chapter by reading these notes to catch spoilers, you are cheating (and that is honestly EXACTLY what I would do)! Anyways, I'll put the notes down here for a bit so I don't accidentally spoil anything ;)  
> In this chapter, Damen is the fucking MVP!!! Need me a man like that, like...how can you do something so sexy while he enjoys his book??? Damn son... Also his line about 'an ass like a Japanese peach' is one of my favorites because IT. IS. THE. TRUTH!  
> In other news, after this we have 3 chapters and this story will have officially dethroned Love of the Second Star as my most commented-on work. You guys are great and I'm going to enjoy sharing the last 3 chapters with you very, VERY soon ;)


	29. Day 28: The Flowers

** Day 28: The Flowers **

Thursday morning Laurent decided that they could not miss class again, though Damen’s hips were bruised from thrusting against a very firm behind and he was almost positive that Laurent’s hips and insides were equally sore. Still, Laurent was insistent, no matter how many times Damen rolled over on top of him and tried to smother him with kisses. Damen laughed as Laurent shouted at him from the bathroom over the unmanageable amount of hickeys he had discovered blooming across his neck and torso.

“If I recall correctly, you kept telling me ‘more’.” Damen said in defense of himself.

Laurent did not respond.

When he finally emerged, he was glaring at Damen with a smile on his lips. “I’m going to have to wear a high-necked shirt today because of you.”

“Show them off.” Damen said leaning up on his elbows. “I think they look nice.”

“That’s because _you_ did them!” Laurent fired back, half laughing.

In the end, Laurent decided on a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and his longer hair hiding most of the redness on the sides of his neck. He would have looked alluring in a paper sack and Damen took the opportunity to kiss Laurent’s bare forearms.

He tried a new recipe for Laurent’s breakfast, remembering his vow to try and cook new cultural foods for Laurent. Today—in his never-ending quest to try and one-up Auguste—he decided to bake a cheese with nuts and cranberries.

Laurent, in revenge for earlier, rubbed sensuously against Damen’s back as he folded the brie, pecans, butter, and cranberries into the pastry shell and brushed the entire shell with an egg-mixture. Damen tossed the entire thing in the oven with intense desperation so that he could spend the next twenty-five minutes with his tongue buried in Laurent’s mouth.

He was reluctant to let go of Laurent, but he had to save the cheese and it was perfectly golden brown when he removed it on its’ tray. When he carved into it, the baked cranberries bled onto the white plates and stained the skin of the flaky crust.

“Did you—my god, this is really good Damianos—hear back from Auguste?” Laurent asked in between his first bite.

“No, I haven’t checked my email yet.” Damen said. “I was a little… _distracted_ yesterday, if you recall.” Laurent gave him a long look over another bite of cheese. “I also don’t like reading Auguste’s thoughts any more than I enjoy hearing them.”

“He’s going to kill you when he finds out you kissed me.” Laurent said cheerfully.

“I’ve done quite a bit more than kiss you.” Damen responded.

The continued their friendly banter over glasses of pomegranate juice and the rest of the baked cheese. When they had finished the entire cheese, the only thing left over was the viscous, dark red cranberry juice on the plates and Laurent leaned hard against Damen as they were cleaning the dishes side by side.

This was his life now.

It was a gorgeous day outside and Damen bounded around restlessly as he and Laurent walked to campus; he knew it fit the hellhound persona that Laurent had laid on him, but he didn’t care. The day was beautiful, the perimeter was safe, and he was helplessly in love.

The idea of something so distasteful as reading something written by Auguste had completely slipped his mind as he endured torturous hours sitting in class next to Laurent, all while wishing the two of them were outside cuddling on the grassy knoll. He only had to suffer through three classes before he could recommend making their dream a reality.

Though Damen did not much care for cafeteria food, he and Laurent bought spicy chicken paninis oozing with tomato, caramelized onions, mozzarella, and grease to eat while they enjoyed the good weather. Laurent, for once had brought his phone along with him and was checking it occasionally with a furrowed brow; Damen assumed Nicaise was up to no good and imagined he would soon be receiving a message or two from Aktis. No one blinked an eye in their general direction as Laurent rolled his entire body onto Damen’s stomach with the ease and comfort of a lover and Damen lazily toyed with his long hair.

“I think…” Laurent started after a few moments of companionable silence, “that I might want to move to a new apartment before next fall’s classes start up.”

“Because of the stalker?” Damen asked. He didn’t want to have to tell Laurent that a change of living place would not deter someone like this. They would find out eventually…

“No,” Laurent replied, “I know it won’t solve that. But…I think after all of this, I just want a fresh start. Someplace new. Maybe somewhere I can host friends, if ever manage to make any.”

“Erasmus.” Damen pointed out. “Or Nicaise.” Laurent snorted. “It should have a nice kitchen in any case…”

“Of course.”

Damen was considering all the possibilities, including the idea that Laurent might be considering moving in with him, when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Easily, Damen shifted Laurent into the fold of his left arm so he could get his phone and look at the screen.

“Ah speak of the devil, and the blue-eyed boy will appear,” He said showing Laurent the screen emblazoned with Aktis’ name. “I wonder what kind of fun things Nicaise has been up to recently.”

He apparently spoke too soon as he opened his phone and was greeted by a solid wall of text.

“Aktis has sent me a novel.” Damen sighed.

“What does it say?” Laurent asked, leaning up on his elbows.

“Give me a moment.” Damen said, while reading. Like his speaking, Aktis’ writing was fast and furious and rife with small errors due to his typing speed so it took a moment to translate. When he did, he felt a little sick. “It’s Nicaise. Aktis took him back to his apartment today to get some things and _someone_ left a note on his door.”

Damen shifted to show Laurent his phone screen. Laurent narrowed his eyes on seeing that ‘someone’ had taped a piece of notebook paper to Nicaise’s door and scrawled on it mockingly in red crayon: ‘Soon _BITCH’_.

“Maybe that’s why the stalker hs not been bothering me recently.” Laurent said sounding deathly furious. “He’s trying to get to me through Nicaise. I swear to god, if that boy is too terrified to go to school, I will kill someone.”

“At least you have the added benefit that you could represent yourself in court.” Damen tried to joke but he was also angry at the situation.

“Should we try to stake out Niciase’s apartment?” Laurent asked, cruel determination glittering in his dark eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“A stakeout. Try to get all your guys there to wait and see if he comes back.”

“You’ve been watching crime shows again, haven’t you?” Damen joked and got a punch on the shoulder. “Fine, fine. Maybe we can go home to ask Nikandros and the guys at HQ but…that’s not normally how stakeouts work.”

Laurent got off his chest with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll indulge me in how I’m wrong on the walk back.”

“Only because you’re so cute.” Damen responded, also leaping to his feet, and Laurent rolled his eyes.

On the way back to the apartment, Damen explained to Laurent that he and his men never did stakeouts, as it took way too much time and patience than they could afford. A lot of times those jobs went to private investigators and most of them wanted a name and a face to go along with their investigation, not to mention the literal hours that they would spend sitting in their car watching Nicaise’s door. It was a job that he did not envy them, to be honest.

Damen was already pulling out his cell phone outside of Laurent’s apartment so that once they were inside to call see if there was anything that could be done. He made sure to avoid Laurent, who was allowing Damen to go in first while he bent down to tie his shoe.

Damen opened the door thinking of what to make for dinner when he heard it.

It was a soft sort of _ksst_ , like the sound of an aerosol can spraying, and Damen was immediately blasted in the face with a cloud of something concentrated that smelled vaguely flowery and medicinal. And he fucking knew.

His body and mind shifted into overdrive as he realized the danger. His phone slipped through his fingers. He needed to get Laurent into the stairwell before he collapsed or…if it was poison…With grim determination, Damen thought that whoever was waiting in that apartment would literally have to step over his dead body to get to Laurent. They needed to run.

Laurent’s panicked blue eyes filled his vision as Damen used every last drop of his adrenaline to turn, snatch Laurent firmly by the arm, and try to sprint down the hall. His legs felt weak two paces in and he heard Laurent scream his name as he fell to his knees.

Dying, he was dying…or at least that’s what it felt like as his upper body hit the floor.

Everything was heavy; his feet were concrete, his arms lead, and his brain pooling into uselessness. His tongue was thick in his mouth as he longed to tell Laurent to run, to leave him behind and…live.

But any hope was crushed to dust as Laurent fell lifelessly next to him, his nails still desperately trying to dig into the flesh of Damen’s left arm. His head was right next to Damen’s and he looked torn between panic and a sort of acceptance over what was about to happen.

He had failed…failed… _failed_ and Laurent was going to be hurt as a result. If his muscles were working properly he would have vomited.

Laurent closed his eyes, probably to compose himself and look cold and disinterested, as the sound of boots echoed on the floor in a heavy, leisurely pace. Rage boiled up inside Damen as he realized he would soon come face to face with a monster.

“Damn that _chalis_ is no joke.” Came the mocking voice and Damen felt thick hands grip his ankles.

There was some resistance as he was dragged backward into the apartment. Though he could not move, apparently Laurent had found the strength to shift his grip and was trying to cling desperately to the waistband of Damen’s pants. Unfortunately, one strong tug was all it took for Laurent to lose his grip and for Damen to slide away into uncertainty.

Laurent’s apartment, from the view of the floor, looked just as sinister and sterile as his first impression of it. Damen’s fingers did not react when his mind ordered them to grip the floor and his neck did not swivel to look a few millimeters behind him to see who had a hold of his legs. This stalker lived up to his reputation of strength if he could cart Damen through the house.

Damen was dragged into Laurent’s bedroom and left facing the wall, completely helpless. He hated the feeling.

A thousand thoughts were rushing through his head. He wondered if Laurent would be hurt in the other room and he would be forced to listen. What if he was kidnapped and taken somewhere else? Really any scenario made him sick to his stomach.

He heard a noise behind him and Laurent was dragged, snarling into the room.

“What the _fuck_ have you done to Damianos? Damen! _Damen_!” His yells were frantic in a way that Damen realized were meant to call him back from death. He longed to turn his head but he couldn’t even twitch. It was amazing to him that Laurent could even speak.

There was a mocking laugh. “I thought that dose would shut you up, but apparently your guard dog took most of it to the face. It’ll do the trick with you I guess. I just need you motionless.” The voice sounded so familiar.

The creak of the bed and Damen used every ounce of his strength to groan in protest. He could hear Laurent’s sigh of relief over him being alive.

“Shit, I forgot he’s facing the wrong way. Hang on sweetheart.”

The bedroom door slammed shut and Damen felt himself being hoisted up and leaned against the wall so he was sitting and facing the bed. Apparently—with growing disgust—the stalker wanted an audience, which was…against his usual procedure. Damen took the whole scene in with his muddled brain.

Laurent was also propped up on the bed, looking as though he too had been dragged by his ankles across the floor. He was utterly limp, one arm tossed awkwardly behind his pillows and legs splayed, but his face was furious in stark contrast. He was glaring daggers at the man adjusting Damen.

Damen echoed his rage when he recognized the person who was touching him.

Grinning widely at his own power over the two of them was none other than Laurent’s Uncle’s bodyguard. Damen had completely forgotten his name again but he remembered that ugly face. He longed to spit in it…to crush that smile under his boot…but all he could do was to loll his head uselessly.

“ _Govart_.” Laurent hissed in a fury and Damen recalled the name. “You’re doing this. Was listening behind closed doors not enough for you anymore?”

Govart turned back to Laurent and now that Damen was propped up, he was of no further interest. Damen was screaming in his head for Laurent to stop; he did not want him at the center of attention. Don’t provoke this man.

But Govart was leisurely, unperturbed by Laurent’s jabs. “You crafty little bitch. Think you’re so tough even when you can’t move anything but your whorish tongue.”

“Obviously you must think highly of my toughness.” Laurent shot back. “Or you wouldn’t have seen the need for the drug.”

“That was for him and you _know_ it!” Govart was a little annoyed now at having his weakness pointed out. “And don’t think you’ll get out of it so easy. This shit takes _hours_ to wear off, so you can stop trying to distract me to buy time.” Laurent narrowed his eyes as thought that had been exactly what he was trying to do and Govart noticed. “You think you’re so slick, you little slut. I know about all your little tricks. He told me what you’d try to do.”

“Ah, I knew I smelled his hand in this.” Laurent said with complete and utter disdain. “It’s not enough for him now to rape his patients, but now my Uncle has you going after the ones that are too old?”

“You don’t know anything!” Govart hissed, now effectively fired up; Damen groaned again as Govart took a menacing half-step towards Laurent’s helpless form. At least it had the desired effect and he stopped to admire Damen’s inability to help. “Well…no. I guess it’s the opposite problem for you. You know too much.”

“Yes and I’m sure assaulting damaged goods like me will do wonders for me keeping my mouth shut.” Laurent replied heartlessly. “You’re almost a decade too late for that.”

With chilling speed, Govart strode over and slapped Laurent hard across the cheek. Damen moaned in protest as Laurent’s cheek bloomed and Govart compounded the damage by crushing Laurent’s entire face in his hand.

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not hired to fuck you and run. _Listen to me_. You don’t know _anything_.”

Damen panicked at this new tidbit of information along with all that was happening.

With Nicaise, Aimeric, and Erasmus, Govart had made sure that he remained unseen by the three of them. Unbidden, the constant fact came to mind: with each crime the violence increased. And suddenly Damen was struck with the horrible sinking feeling that he and Laurent might not make it out of this room alive.

Laurent made a small grunt as his skull was slammed against the headboard and Govart towered over him. But he was nowhere even close to giving up.

“Or his he letting you act out sick fantasies in lieu of payment?”

This time Laurent could not help but cry out as he was savagely backhanded. Tiny drops of blood spattered on his bedspread and he could do nothing but wait until Govart righted him again. His blue eyes glittered with malice.

“You got a sharp tongue, princess. I can see why your uncle was so worried about you finishing school in one piece.”

It clicked then.

The puzzle pieces that Auguste had been missing, the connection no one could seem to make. Two people working together to make Laurent try and miss school because…if he finished then the truth would come out. Laurent would compile his court case and evidence and he was so intelligent, his uncle would have significant reason to worry. It at least explained his seemingly supernatural abilities to seemingly be everywhere at once.

“Then…” blood dribbled from the corner of Laurent’s mouth, “Aimeric and…Nicaise…”

“Your fault, selfish cunt.” Govart said mercilessly. “He knew you’d come after that screaming bitch—.”

“Screaming bitch?” Laurent asked.

“God, the little one, such a pain. Sobbed and screamed the whole time. Gave me a headache.” Damen felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Tough little Nicaise was all for show… “Knew you’d contact him when you found out. You signed his death warrant.”

“If you lay another hand on Nicaise--.” Laurent’s threat was abruptly cut short by Govart taking a handful of golden hair and yanking up.

“You’ll what? I’m just taking orders.” He said mockingly and then motioned at Damen. “You can thank his brother for that.” Even Laurent’s perfect control could not withstand this. His eyes darted to Damen.

Damen felt as though he might faint.

His vision went blurry and the world seemed to rearrange itself under his feet. Kastor. _Kastor_ was also behind this? It all made sense, in spite of how desperately he wished it didn’t.

Kastor had once been a bodyguard himself, after all and he knew Damen’s style. It explained how the footage from the security cameras could be altered, how Govart had been able to dodge detection, how he had been able to break into Laurent’s apartment and…access Damen’s old pictures. He would have stolen them from Jokaste’s old phone or from the backup on her computer. All along the way he had done his life’s work and destroyed Damen from the inside out. He knew now in his mind that he hadn’t been dodging Kastor’s notice by taking this job…Kastor and Laurent’s uncle had probably orchestrated this whole situation and laughed as he played into their hands.

And then something even worse came to mind.

It was no wonder Damen’s first impression of Govart was that he was not like a typical bodyguard. It was because he wasn’t. He was a hitman.

They were not going to leave this room alive.

Nicaise was in serious trouble, as were Aktis and Aimeric. If Auguste was close, then he was in danger too. But Damen could only think of his own fate and wondered if he would have to watch Laurent die or if he would have to die with Laurent’s screams in his ears.

“Ah, I’ve said too much,” Govart said, watching Damen’s expression with cruel joy. “And I’ve upset your guard dog. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” They knew too much and now they were going to die…

There was the sound of ripping and the delicate buttons of Laurent’s oxford shirt were sent flying in every direction as Govart pulled it apart with his brute strength. Laurent’s entire pretty torso was on display and Damen felt black rage overcoming the sickness of betrayal. The moment he touched Laurent’s skin in that way, Govart was as good as dead. Damen didn’t know when or how, but he’d be dead.

Govart clicked his tongue at Damen’s handiwork. “You’d have such pretty skin. But that son of a bitch ruined yours. Damn shame…” He harshly pinched one of Laurent’s nipples and Damen was so furious, his body actually convulsed. Govart jumped in fear and then laughed as he saw Damen was still motionless. “Strong fucker, isn’t he?”

“Why Erasmus?” Laurent gasped as Govart went to right Damen. If looks could kill…

“You never shut up, do you?” Govart turned back to his victim, looking at him with something like grudging respect. “Who’s Erasmus? The honey boy? Ahh…I just liked his look was all. Got permission to fuck him and I took it.”

That had the Uncle’s signature all over it.

Erasmus’ rape had been a confusing piece of the puzzle and Damen now realized that it was allowed so that any investigators would be thrown off the scent. Now he knew it was just for Govart to satisfy his lust.

The belt slithered out with a hiss of leather and Govart slung it easily over his shoulder. For the second time, Laurent’s expression broke and panic seeped into his eyes. “No more talk. I’ve given you more information than was allowed. But just rest easy knowing your dog, your brother, and your little blue-eyed bitch will be joining you very soon.”

“Auguste.” Laurent whispered, now knowing what would be coming for his brother.

When Govart took another step forward and Damen found another twitch of strength. All he managed was to slump forward onto the floor in a pitiful attempt to stop Govart from hurting Laurent. There was a sharp crack and Damen felt the hot kiss of the leather against the back of his head.

“Fucking _damn you_! Scaring the shit out of me. Just lie fucking still, you animal!”

Govart strode with an annoyed step over toward the bathroom and not long after, a black duffel bag sailed into his line of view. Zip ties spilled out of one of the pouches and Damen was quivering with fury.

Govart picked them up carelessly. “I had these in case he didn’t catch the _chalis_. The drug is safer but…not as fun.”

 _Disgusting_. He was a foul human being and Damen had never wanted to badly to rip someone apart before. The only two others who deserved it more were Kastor and Laurent’s Uncle.

“He’s going to kill you, you know.”

Laurent’s voice was so chilling and assured that Govart stopped what he was doing and looked up at Laurent in disbelief. “Your brother won’t even know where to start when he finds what’s left of you. I guess that’ll make it easier for me. I have to make it look like a suicide in failure to save his beloved brother.”

Laurent closed his for a moment to compose himself, and fight away the imagery. His eyes were blazing when he opened them.

“Not Auguste. Kastor. Kastor and my uncle are going to kill you.”

From what Damen could see, Govart looked murderous. His face was twisted in a mask of barely contained fury but he moved slow and deliberate as he turned to face Laurent. “And what the hell do you know about that?”

“Oh, I’m so glad I have your undivided attention now.” Laurent said, grinning through his bloody lips. “It makes complete sense really. I can see why you went into a life of crime; you obviously don’t have the brains for much else. Once you polish off everyone else they’re going to pay you for…you’re just a liability. You’re the one who’s going to take the fall for all of it.”

“You’re lying.” Govart said easily, though to Damen’s ears he sounded unnerved.

“Do you have any proof to maintain your innocence?” Laurent asked sweetly. Silence. “See? My Uncle and Kastor have covered their tracks. They have alibis for every crime you’ve committed and you have nothing. People have seen you around with my uncle but…he’s a good liar, I should know.” Then, in a spot-on impression, Laurent mimicked his uncle’s voice. “I had no _idea_ my man could be capable of such a thing. And to think I might have been responsible for exposing him to my own nephews?”

The imitation pushed Govart’s discomfort over the edge and he leapt onto the bed, silencing Laurent by gripping him by the throat. “But you are _so. Fucking. WRONG_ about that!” Spittle hit Laurent’s cheek as he jerked ineffectively. “Because they _need_ me; I’m indispensible and they _know it_!”

“No…” Laurent choked. “If…you’re gone…it’s one less…witness…It’s my uncle’s…word…against…Kastor’s…”

Damen felt like his teeth were going to explode he was clenching them so hard. If he could clear his body of this _chalis_ shit on willpower alone, Govart was soon going to be relieved of his hands.

Laurent was shoved back violently and gasped for air. But, as usual, he did not quit. “If you stop this…right now…I can help you. I can—.”

One of Govart’s hands clamped down over Laurent’s mouth and Laurent made a small noise of pain as his right nipple was twisted violently. “Shut up. Manipulating bitch. He told me you’d try to talk me out of it. He told me. I should have gagged you from the start, you and that noisy boy-whore.” Govart looked down at Laurent’s furious face. “Maybe…if you’re good from here on out, I won’t murder your little informant. I’ll just kick him back to that rent shop where he belongs. Dirty whore. He doesn’t deserve something so good as what you’ve promised.”

When he removed his hand from Laurent’s mouth, Laurent responded by spitting directly in his eyes.

“Bitch, you just make it hard on yourself.” Govart was clearly furious as he wiped his eye. Damen actually found his vocal cords as Govart punched Laurent hard in the stomach and Laurent shrieked in pain, though his body did not move.

“ _Stop_ …” Damen gasped into the wood floors.

“Shit, forgot about him.” Govart said, leaving Laurent alone and walking back to Damen. “Don’t want you getting up any time soon.” He rummaged through the duffel bag and pulled something out that Damen couldn’t see. Then it was his turn to be yanked up by his hair.

“What is that?” Laurent gasped through his pain. “What is that—leave him alone! What are you doing to him?”

Govart rolled his eyes and spoke to Damen. “This _chalis_ is hard to get, but…your company has connections even I’m amazed by. Apparently…this stuff paralyzes your muscles but you can still feel everything. I’m not entirely sure how it works or how safe it is but I wonder…if a dose big enough would stop your heart…”

Laurent shouted for him to stop, but it was too late.

In one easy motion, Govart covered his own nose and mouth and sprayed another concentrated dose in Damen’s face. Immediately, his head began to spin, his heart beat sluggishly, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He could hardly think straight either, but one thing was keeping him firmly grounded in alertness and that was Laurent desperately calling his name.

Was this what death felt like? It wasn’t so bad actually…he only wished Laurent could be spared his torture…

He wanted to look at Laurent before he was violated…Laurent’s black trousers landed on a pile in front of Damen and he found the strength to shift his eyes up.

Damen had never seen Laurent cry before and, through his hazy dying, he felt some indignation over the fact that he would only see this new expression now. Laurent was propped up, his head turned forcefully so that he had to look at Damen, and his dark blue eyes were misty, his split lip trembling.

Damen could make out what Govart was saying and it was mocking as he forced Laurent to look. “Anything you want to say sweetheart? Before his heart gives out?”

“Damianos. Damianos. _Damen_.” Laurent called out, his voice raw, and Damen could not even find the strength to make a noise or movement in response. “It’s ok. It’s ok. Do you…remember where our paradise is?” Two tears, one from each eye, dripped down Laurent’s cheeks and then he composed himself for the inevitable. Damen remembered. Laurent said heaven was that field of flowers where they could walk together, safe for ages. “It’s ok, lover. You can go first. Go first and wait for me there…ok? I’ll be there soon. But you can go first. I’ll be there soon, I swear. Wait for me…and I promise…no one will touch you.”

Damen closed his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD!  
> I have been SO excited to post this chapter for you all to enjoy ;) To be honest, I should have posted it yesterday, but...I'm bad at counting to 4, ok??? Haha in any case, only 2 chapters left after this and I've also been working hard on my Big Bang story, so I am awash in Captive Prince.  
> I hope you guys like this chapter and I can't wait to hear your feedback! That cliffhanger though...When I wrote it, to be honest, I was a bit choked up myself so enjoy the angst as much as I did ;)


	30. Day 28-29: The Lightning in His Hands

** Day 28-29: The Lightning in His Hands **

Damen, for a moment, was going to do it.

He was floating in his own subconscious, listening to his heartbeat slow to a dull thud that felt like a stone pulsing in his chest. He wavered on that hazy line and wondered to himself if it would be easier to just let go and fade away into oblivion. Laurent had said to do it and…honestly Damen didn’t know if he could live with himself after all of this. For a moment, he let himself fall.

But something stopped him.

It echoed in his head; that mantra, that promise that he intended to keep. He could not die with it undone. _No one else could touch Laurent_.

At this thought, Damen refused to let himself fall into that haze. Maybe he wasn’t dying. Maybe he was just on the edge of passing out. But either way he begged this one last action out of his body and forced himself to wake up. His eyelids opened slowly—hell everything moved slowly—but he was finally able to focus on what was in front of him.

It appeared that only a few seconds had passed since he had blinked in and out of consciousness, as Laurent was still in the same position, being forced to look at his limp form.

Despite his apparent bravado in the face of near-certain death, Laurent could not fully hide the relief that flashed across his face in brilliance. His brief smile was breathtaking, even though his eyes were still shining from unshed tears. Damen was glad he could see it at least one more time.

He tried to convey without his body or his voice that he was not going to leave Laurent alone to face this. Whatever happened…he was there until the bitter end. He hoped Laurent could see that in his eyes.

Govart looked at him in something akin to begrudging amazement. “You’re a tough fucker. I’ll give you that.” Then his voice was sweet, cloying. “Well princess, looks like he wants to see you get fucked one more time before he goes. Even if he isn’t the one doing it.”

Laurent was shoved by his face back onto the bed and he could do nothing but lie back and watch as Govart began unzipping his pants all while admiring the exposed bits of Laurent’s body.

“Gotta hand it to you. You have a pretty body,” Laurent’s face was carefully controlled as Govart put a flat palm on his lower stomach, “pretty face…pretty mouth…” His other thumb roughly smeared Laurent’s bottom lip, dying it with blood. “You were a hell of a looker when you were a bratty kid too.”

Words could not describe the anger.

There was only one way Govart could have seen Laurent when he was a child…

Damen was burning, even through his hazy, drugged state and Laurent glared up at Govart with undisguised hatred. “Disgusting. You and he are a match made in heaven.”

Without warning, Govart plunged his bulky head down and roughly kissed the bruises he had created on Laurent’s cheek. “Say what you will, bitch,” His voice was breathless and raw with lust, “But we’ve got an hour or two for you to learn to enjoy my company. Make sure you cry pretty for your boyfriend and I’ll kill you quickly in thanks.”

Govart began to straddle Laurent and Damen began to brace himself for their torture.

Maybe it was that his mind was moving slower than usual or perhaps the action was slowed by his adrenaline, but Damen saw every detail in vivid clarity. The fall of Laurent’s gold hair, the twitch of his muscles under the bruising white skin, every wrinkle of the bed sheets.

Damen watched in slow motion as Govart hovered over Laurent and Laurent shifted under the weight of him.

There was a moment of tension, like a thread pulled tight over the three of them.

Then Laurent shifted again, though Govart had not moved. Damen heard something familiar; a soft ‘ _tic tic tic_ ’ that seemed to come from behind the pillows. In his muddled mind he knew he had heard this sound before but it took him a half a moment to remember. When he did…it was with utter amazement at Laurent’s cunning.

He knew if he looked down at his hip it would not be there…he remembered Laurent gripping the left side of his pants… remembered in the grocery in, what felt like, an age ago “if he’s close, press this button, wait three seconds for the ticking and then jab it into him,”… _real gun on the right, taser on the left_ , as it had been all 28 days they had spent together…

Laurent knew. He was perceptive and he never forgot.

Damen was able to process this all in the span of a breath thanks to the sluggishness of everything around him, and he was able to watch in wide-eyed wonder as Laurent shifted again.

He moved like lightning, unfettered by the effects of the _chalis_ —maybe he had never been hit by it in the first place—and his hands crackled blue. Govart, so assured that Laurent would remain motionless, could not seem to react through his shock and he did not move out of the way. In a movement like stabbing, Laurent thrust his entire body up and jabbed those fizzling blue spikes into the large, meaty target of Govart’s torso.

Damen knew what would come next.

Govart jerked violently as electricity coursed through the nerve endings of his body and his scream died to a gurgle in the back of his bull-like throat. Normally for someone the size of Govart, five to ten seconds would drop him but Laurent did not relent.

His dark blue eyes blazed with righteous anger, his hair dyed blue-white by the crackling current.

This was the man who had terrorized him for weeks, who had been employed by his abuser, broken into his home, tried to rape and kill him. Damen knew that, for Laurent, nothing short of a death sentence would do. He would have warned Laurent that holding the taser on the body could cause cardiac arrhythmia, which could easily lead to a heart attack. But unfortunately, he had been gassed too hard to speak so…he just sat back and marveled at Laurent.

Laurent must have held the taser in place for at least a minute until he saw something in Govart that Damen could not see from his position. When he pulled back, the metal prongs of the taser were red and there was the very distinctive smell of singed flesh.

In an almost graceful arc, Govart fell backwards with his limbs and head slack, and hit the wooden floor with a sharp crack. Laurent was breathing like he had run miles and he stared hard at Govart’s lifeless form, as if to make sure he wasn’t going to move.

Then he scrambled off the bed, his milky body swaying from his wounds. Sensibly, he kept the taser in his hand, though he took his hand off the button.

Damen’s entire body slumped into Laurent’s arms and, now that he did not have to hide his expression in front of Govart, his face was awash with concern. Damen’s head lolled against Laurent’s bare chest and he heard Laurent’s thundering heartbeat; he must have been terrified…

Since Damen could not move his neck on his own, Laurent took Damen’s head in his hands and turned it so they could face each other.

“You idiot…provoking him. I had him right where I wanted him…” Damen could not even find the strength to smile, but something must have been conveyed in his eyes because Laurent clutched him closer and kissed his slack lips. His cheeks were a little wet. “He’s _poisoned_ you…” Laurent’s voice was choked with anger and anxiety. “I’m going to get us help but…can you hold on a little while longer?”

Damen could only stare.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.” Laurent amended and Damen blinked once. “Ok. Wait for me.” Laurent began to stand and made a small noise of pain as Damen’s head accidentally brushed his bruising stomach. Damen whined. “It’s fine…I’m fine, just…lie still.” Still he cupped his stomach tenderly as he staggered to his feet and stumbled to his discarded pants. He did not release the taser.

Damen was struggling now to keep his eyes open and Laurent panicked when he returned and saw Damen’s eyes half-closed. The haze he was fighting off had come back.

“No, _no_!” Damen’s cheeks were patted firmly, “Stay with me Damen, stay awake… _please_ just…” Damen’s head was once against pressed tight to Laurent’s chest as Laurent desperately began to use his phone, all while checking on Damen and Govart’s unmoving form.

The next time he spoke, it was not to Damen.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me.” His voice was breathless and not at all composed like usual. “It’s me! Please hurry, please come! He’s been drugged, please hurry!” After that phone call, he immediately made another, this time the recipient was easy to identify. “Auguste, Auguste. I need you to come to my apartment right now! Yes—I’m fine…I’ve erm, just killed someone, I think. Please hurry and bring those detectives of yours along— _don't ask me questions, just come_! And make sure no one else knows that you’re coming; especially…not uncle.”

Damen could still hear Auguste shouting on the other end of the line as Laurent hung up on him. He felt he had never been so proud of Laurent before.

The moment he knew Auguste was on his way, Damen allowed his defenses to drop and he passed out. He was only roused against when cold water was tossed across his face and it was a difficulty to even open his eyes. But when he did, it was to chaos.

Pallas was standing above him—Damen wondered how Pallas had heard about this—holding an empty glass while Lazar was inspecting Govart’s lifeless form. He had come to just in time to see Auguste and his men, Nikandros, and Lydos burst through the door. Laurent was still holding Damen’s head and the look on his face was nothing short of the most profound relief.

“Boss! Damen!” Nikandros called out. He sounded like he was quite far. “What happened to him?”

“He’s been drugged—poisoned?” Laurent spoke up, seemingly uncaring that he was nearly naked. “You might know it; it’s called _chalis_. He’s been in and out of consciousness and I’m afraid he’s—.” Laurent, who had probably feared at least once that Damen was going to die, still could not bear to say it aloud.

“We need to call an ambulance.” Nikandros insisted. “And the authorities.”

“ _No_ ,” Laurent insisted and Damen felt himself falling back into the darkness again. “Before _anything_ we need to call—.”

Damen did not know who needed to be called, as he fell in deep. His body slumping in Laurent’s arms. No one was going to touch Laurent now. He could rest easy knowing that…

 

Waking up was like rising out of deep water. It was slow going but a natural rise, something instinctive and important. He felt like he had not moved in ages and his eyelids cracked open little by little. He heard a soft, rhythmic beeping noise.

He did not know how long he had been asleep or how he had gotten here, but that could wait in favor of other, more pressing matters.

He knew he was in a hospital the moment he opened his eyes, just thanks to the sheer amount of equipment he was hooked up to and how the very nice room had the same harsh, clean appearance of Laurent’s home. But his attention soon shifted, speaking of Laurent…

A sheet of blond hair spilled across his lap along with most of Laurent’s upper torso, while Damen’s left hand was firmly grasped by Laurent’s right hand. He was wearing one of Damen’s enormous jackets over top of his own hospital garments and he was fast asleep in that position. He was safe…nothing else mattered.

At first, Damen’s arms felt like they were 100 pounds each, but he finally managed to lift his left arm and gently place it on top of Laurent’s head. Never had he relished stroking Laurent’s gold hair so much; he thought he might never get the chance again. His eyes actually began to well up and he could not help himself.

Slowly and against the protest of his muscles, he leaned down and kissed the top of Laurent’s head, reveling in the feeling.

“Damen…”

Laurent stirred at the feeling and it was a good thing Damen’s reflexes were so quick, as he was able to move his head out of the way as Laurent sat up immediately. Damen had never seen him rise so quickly and he could not help but smile. This was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen although…

Damen was not strong enough to hold back one tear as he raised his free hand to Laurent’s left cheek. It was swollen and blossoming all sorts of reds and violets. It must have hurt like the devil but Laurent leaned into his hand and clung to Damen’s wrist like it was the only thing anchoring him onto the earth.

They stayed like this for a moment and then Laurent decided that this touch was not enough and he leaned forward, eyes closed.

Damen kissed him shallowly, careful to cup the injured cheek.

“Your stomach.” Damen said, remembering all that had transpired the last time he had be conscious. There had to be a reason why Laurent was in a hospital gown as well. Laurent laughed in disbelief; Damen savored the sound,

“My god Damen, you were drugged. _Poisoned_!” He amended, his voice torn between relief and disbelief. Laurent put his own cool hands on Damen’s cheeks and Damen kissed his palms. “The doctors said…if you were my size…if you had been any smaller in stature, then that dose of _chalis_ would have killed you.” Laurent breathed sharply like he had lived through the negative side of that scenario more than once. “It would have _killed_ you. During the ambulance ride, I thought it…still might. Don’t…worry about my bruises…”

They kissed a little longer until Damen was a little more coherent and then he pulled back, filled with questions.

Laurent knew the look on his face. “You only get to ask me six, as per our usual agreement.”

“You must be joking.” Damen said and Laurent smiled in a way that proved he was indeed kidding. Damen squeezed his hand. “How long have I been out?”

“Less than twenty four hours.” Laurent admitted. “Things are still a little crazy so that’s why no one else is in here with us and no one has noticed that I’ve escaped my room again. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is the hospital where your father has been staying as well. He doesn’t know you’re here though; they didn’t want to upset him.”

“And Govart.” Damen felt immediate rage at those particular memories of his ugly face. “Is he…?”

Laurent’s eyes were sharp and merciless. “He’s dead. Heart attack. Apparently, you’re not supposed to hold a taser on someone for that long but…I’m not familiar with the protocol and it was in self defense.” Laurent was a damn good liar; Damen was sure the police had heard this exact story.

And just like that, the nightmare was over. Damen squeezed Laurent’s hand; it wasn’t easy to kill someone, even someone as monstrous as Govart.

“You weren’t affected by the _chalis_ ,” Damen said after another moment of thought. “And I refuse to believe that anything concerning this is coincidence…you _knew_ didn’t you? You knew he was going to be there.” Laurent could not hide the small flash of guilt and Damen was filled with awe. “ _How_? How did you know?”

“Before we went to the lake house…” Laurent said, “when Pallas and Lazar were watching the apartment for us, I had them bug the apartment; video, wiretap, the whole package.” Damen felt his jaw drop as he remembered Laurent talking at length with the two of them about—what he thought—were their sleeping arrangements. “I knew…the stalker would come back at some point so…I thought I could give us an upper hand with that at least. Pallas would check when there was motion captured and…he texted me the other day while we were eating lunch that…Govart was there, preparing.” So it hadn’t been Nicaise that he had been texting that afternoon.

Laurent interrupted before Damen could be angry. “I know, I know. It was stupid and irresponsible and I should have warned you but…I had a bug in the house and…I knew my uncle was behind this and I could get Govart to talk. I needed proof that they were working together. You would have just punched him and he would have been blamed. My uncle and your brother would have claimed ignorance.” Damen’s anger waned as Laurent began to explain faster, his voice becoming breathless. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I should have told you but…I didn’t think he would…” Laurent made a small noise of pain and lowered his head to Damen’s hands. “I’m sorry.”

Damen was unable to be angry at seeing Laurent so distraught. “You took that punch to the stomach without moving?” He underestimated Laurent’s resolve.

“It was harder not to move when he sprayed you again.” Laurent lifted his head and hastily wiped his eyes. “But I have the last laugh. The confession is all on tape and recorded thanks to Pallas and Lazar. They were watching the feed remotely and came to the apartment as soon as I called them…”

“What happens now then?” Damen asked. “Do we have enough evidence?”

Laurent bit his lip.

“We had to wait to call the police and the ambulance because…if my uncle heard, he would erase evidence and…those photos off of his computer or at least move them somewhere else. So we had to move quickly but…I think…we won’t have enough evidence.” Laurent looked so downtrodden that Damen ached to embrace him. “At least…we have enough evidence to prosecute Kastor. That was what had confused Auguste’s investigation: no one imagined three stalkers and…they weren’t even stalkers. It was just an excuse for why you and I might be killed and so Govart could rape pretty boys. Auguste realized that when my uncle proposed a bodyguard, he would choose someone outside the company to protect me and all it took was someone well placed and hired by your brother to recommend you. For a former guard, your brother didn’t cover his tracks well enough. But my uncle…I don’t think…” Laurent trailed off.

Damen felt a rush of indignation for a moment. “So then…Nicaise and Aimeric and Erasmus? They were all…?”

Laurent nodded looking even guiltier than before. “Collateral damage. Maybe to get them too scared to help me. I had found out about Aimeric a long time ago and I was building up witnesses for my case against my uncle. When they realized I wouldn’t be intimidated…”

“ _Jesus_.” Damen breathed, also feeling awash in guilt.

“We’ve got some excellent fodder for Paschal next week.” Laurent admitted. “I’m not even sure where we would begin…” Damen agreed; it was going to take a while to recover from yet another betrayal, the panic of seeing Laurent almost-assaulted, and his guilt over failing.

He wasn’t cut out for guarding with so much emotion on the line.

“When will the prosecution start?” Damen asked.

“They’re assembling the evidence to arrest Kastor within the week. Murder for hire. Accessory to rape and assault. Conspiracy to commit murder. Fraud.” Laurent looked more and more miserable with each passing accusation. “Of course they will want us to testify but that will come much later. You’ll be able to take back control of your company a-and I—.” Laurent had to pause and look away to hide his expression but, with the two of them alone together, it was one of unconcealed grief. His body shook.

Damen recalled a small detail from Laurent’s previous answer.

All of Laurent’s hard work, all of his dreams coalesced into one focal point had been ripped away. His uncle was craftier than Kastor and even if he was convicted on the counts of hiring someone who had tried to kill his nephew…Damen knew that wasn’t what Laurent wanted.

Laurent wanted his uncle laid bare and exposed as he had been as a ‘patient’. He wanted people to know the truth about the ‘counseling’ and about what kind of monster had been let free for so long.

It wasn’t enough for Laurent; family ties be damned, he wanted his uncle’s name dragged through the mud for what he had done.

And it seemed like that one goal was about to be torn from his grasp forever. With all the evidence erased after the death of Govart, there could be no hope for him to get the conviction he wanted. All that preparation for nothing…

Before Laurent could truly break down at the hopelessness of his situation, Damen moved forward on leaden limbs and enfolded Laurent in his arms. Damen was pulsing with anticipation.

Laurent sank into Damen’s arms with welcome relief and Damen continued to leisurely pat his hair. He…didn’t know where to start.

“Laurent, I have something to tell you.”

Laurent looked up and the tone of Damen’s voice must have confused him because he looked like he wanted to be wary. “What is it?”

Damen couldn’t help but smile, and it felt unnatural after all that had happened in less than 24 hours. But this deserved a smile. “Well…after we had that meeting with your uncle, I knew what he had gotten up to with Nicaise. I didn’t want to let him do it again with anyone.” He paused; this was going to be the only thing that would be hard to say. “Do you know why our fathers had a falling out? One of our men found…some of your uncles’ files on the secure hard drives of your family’s company.” Laurent looked shocked. “Auguste didn’t know. I didn’t know that he was oblivious and I thought he was defending…” Damen shook his head, “Anyways, bad blood. Regardless, I figured after all this I shouldn’t let this kind of behavior continue. So…before we left for the lake house, I also made plans.”

Damen remembered the man he trusted most in the world (aside from Laurent) and the most sensitive task he had given him before they left.

“I had Nikandros break into your uncle’s practice in the middle of the night—he’s quite good at disarming alarm systems—and he encrypted a keystroke logger on your uncle’s computer.” Laurent’s eyes were enormous, even by his standards. “The ones at our company are very good.” Laurent began to move as Damen talked, almost unable to contain himself. “They can track what is being typed, take screenshots and even record what is being watched or downloaded.”

“ _Damen_.” Laurent gasped.

“It’s all sent to a remote source, of course.” Damen felt his smile getting wider. “And so it’s impossible to delete from there.”

“ _Damen!_ ”

“What? You think you’re the only one who can think three steps ahead of everyone else? I wouldn’t worry too much about something like ‘lack of evid—.”

“ _Damianos!_ ” Forgetting that they were in the hospital recovering from a beating and an attempted poisoning—also the idea that neither of them had showered recently—Laurent launched himself onto the hospital bed and threw his arms around Damen’s neck. Healthy recovery could take a backseat as Laurent kissed him passionately. Damen held him gently but did not tone down on the kissing.

When they finally separated, Laurent was half-reclining on Damen’s chest and Damen was annoyed that they were injured—the doctors would probably frown on it as well—or he would have treated Laurent to the sloppiest, hottest, we-almost-died sex. Instead, he contented himself with just clearing the hair from Laurent’s eyes so he could savor that expression of heartfelt delight.

“Are you happy?”

“More than you can _ever_ imagine.” Laurent murmured.

“I’m so glad.” Damen admitted. “I guess…that can make up for me failing to protect you.” Laurent glared immediately. “I let him touch you…I would say it’s all my fault but I’m sure you and Paschal would beat that out of me…”

Laurent touched Damen’s cheeks. “You _did_ protect me. You stayed by my side all thirty days. You made me think…” Laurent took a deep breath to steady himself, “you made me think I could be loved and…you gave me something else to live for besides revenge. Having you here safe is enough. I… _love you_.”

Damen grinned in spite of himself. He leaned in for another kiss.

“I love you too.” He whispered in between kisses. Laurent was safe. His guilt was trivial in comparison.

When Laurent could not get enough air and Damen’s EKG machine was beeping erratically, Damen just held Laurent on his chest and listened to him speak at length about his case and how this evidence would change everything.

Laurent finally rolled so he was lying on his side and he smiled at the scenery outside, smiled brilliant and white. “Ahhh, oh my god. Is this what it’s like to breathe properly? Is this what it's like to _live_?”

“You’ve forgotten?” Damen asked, kissing Laurent’s forehead. The numbness in his limbs was beginning to disappear.

“It’s been so long…” Laurent admitted.

“No more reason to worry. When Nikandros assembles the evidence you can begin to file your claims. We have connections in the police as well.” Damen remembered Aleron covering for his brother, not wanting to cause a scandal. He’d try to do it again…

“Ah.” It came out like a laugh. “There might be _one_ thing you need to worry about.”

Damen turned to look at Laurent who was obviously holding back a bubble of of wicked laughter. “What is that?” Govart was dead, Kastor and Laurent’s uncle were going to be arrested and prosecuted in the coming days, and Laurent was safe. What could he possibly have to worry about?

“Well,” Laurent’s eyes glittered with wicked glee, “when I called everyone into the apartment yesterday…I wasn’t really thinking straight for a while and so I was just…holding you and calling for you to wake up and kissing your cheeks—god, it sounds so embarrassing talking about it now—but, umm I didn’t really care who saw me.”

“ _No_.” Damen whispered in horror, though there was also a laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Auguste is not pleased.”

The two of them devolved into helpless laughter at the thought of Auguste’s fury and Damen started kissing Laurent again. He wasn’t nearly as worried about Auguste looking for vengeance. Laurent was worth the struggle.

“Don’t worry Damen. I told him he wouldn’t touch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July! In honor of America's intense patriotism, here is the ending of the cliffhanger!  
> First of all, I have to say: THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS! Jesus, my inbox was just a constant stream of you all screaming at me and it was exactly the reaction I'd hoped for haha! I'm so glad the angst hit hard though, and some of you guys were right in your guess as to the 'stalker(s)'!  
> Anyway...so this chapter is what really makes me happy about this story as a whole. I have been literally dropping hints since the first couple of chapters how this could be resolved. Just small things like...in Chapter 20 where Damen had an extra mission for Nikandros and Laurent was chatting with Pallas and Aktis, or how in Chapter 1 Auguste said he didn't like Kastor the most. The whole story I made references to where Damen put his things so...I hope some of you remember this when I point it out ;)  
> Oh god, only 1 chapter left after this and it will be so, SO bittersweet. I have had so much fun sharing this story with you all and I hope you guys like the conclusion as much as the rest of the story! Final chapter will be posted in 4-5 days!  
> Enjoy!


	31. Day ?: The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. 31 chapters, 145k words and Touch You is officially over. I...cannot even explain how much fun this has been to do! Your comments have been so kind and supportive and I'm so happy so many of you have come along with me on this journey of mystery, love, and food (mostly food haha)!  
> I love all of you so much (including future readers)!  
> Throughout all of Touch You, I never once wanted to romanticize stalking and I sincerely hope that it shows off how horrible and lasting the experience can be. If any of you lovely readers have experienced it, I hope you will be able to get help and stay safe and happy! My reading about it just shows how hard it can be to go through and how strong the victims are to have to live under that threat...  
> As for my next work, I completely plan to continue writing Captive Prince stories but I will be working steadily on my Big Bang which will come out in early September. I'll try to post another story in between but it might take a week or two to put out, so please be patient with me.  
> If any of you guys want to chat with me in the meantime pop on over to my tumblr @steelestingray and I can give you updates on when I'll post next!  
> As always...you guys are the best, thank you so much, and enjoy this last chapter :)

** Day ?: The Future **

The apartment was lovely.

The windows were south-facing so it got ample sun in the morning and the evening and it had a simple, comfortable European style of decorating. The floors were wood—not new—but warm and smooth underfoot and the kitchen-dining room combo was modern and large.

From the kitchen, a guest could see past the living room, through glass-paned French doors into a modest home library. Past that would be the guest bed and bathroom and the master suite.

It was a lovely apartment, quiet but for the television in the living room.

The woman on-screen was attractive. Sleek brown hair tied back into a bun, her blue eyes matching the blue of her suit as she began to speak at length.

“As always with our exclusive report into this case, the jury has convened for this trial and will begin to decide on sentencing. The case we are speaking of is the one that has gripped headlines for months now: the eldest son of a famous private defense company is charged with hiring a hitman to kill his younger half-brother in an attempt to seize the company and its’ assets.” She could not help but grimace a bit at the next detail as Govart’s mugshot for a different offense was emblazoned across the screen. “The hitman was killed in his attack; he has also been linked to a series of rapes across the city. If sentenced to the maximum punishment, Kastor could face a life sentence in a federal prison.”

She took a deep breath and then began anew on another topic that clearly disgusted her even more.

“In an unrelated scandal, the younger brother of an investing CEO has been sentenced today for life imprisonment without the possibility of parole.” Footage of a familiar face, golden-gray hair no longer sleek, gave Damen a rush; he would never get tired of seeing it for the rest of his life.

She read the long list of offenses with barely disguised hatred. “…his medical license has since been revoked and his elder brother has stepped down from the CEO position due to the stress. This story was broken when an anonymous source sent evidence to our news headquarters. He has since been moved to 24-hour isolation due to incidents with other prisoners…”

Damen smiled at that. He knew what monumental effort had gotten them to this place.

Laurent and Auguste had had a plan to circumvent any opportunity to sweep their uncle’s actions under the rug. And Torveld had finally gotten his vengeance for Erasmus.

After watching the video footage of that terrible afternoon, Damen realized who Laurent had been insistent on calling: Torveld. Since his family owned a famous media outlet, he had been promised the scoop almost immediately so that Kastor could not go into hiding quick enough. Once Nikandros had assembled all of his data as well, Laurent handed it over to Torveld—anonymously, of course—and told Torveld to wreak havoc. The fallout had been swift and immediate.

Even Aleron, with all his connections, could not stop the wrath of the public and the fury of the patients and their families as more and more boys came forward. Instead, he distanced himself from the situation as much as possible and stepped down in favor of Auguste taking over the company.

For the entire summer, Damen and Laurent had put their lives on hold and had been in and out of court.

Damen had watched the footage of the break-in so many times that he began to have vivid nightmares of the encounter; just as Damen had done during the sleep paralysis, Laurent sat up with him until the nightmares had passed. His head had spun as the defense asked him question after question, innocuous details, as Kastor glowered at him from his seat.

Then, he also went in support of Nicaise, Aimeric and Laurent and countless other boys and young men who had come forward to testify in the court case against Laurent’s uncle. It had been heartrending, but also inspiring in a way.

Individually, they had been scared, confused, embarrassed…but once Laurent took the stand with a steady voice and nerves of steel, their voices also rose in anger and indignation. Wave upon wave they sat and fought, eyes burning and stories assured. They wanted this as much as Laurent did.

Damen had held Laurent’s hand when the guilty verdict was read and only one other time had he seen Laurent so overjoyed: when he had realized Damen was not going to die. His greatest goal achieved, Laurent watched as his uncle was led away in chains, his name tarnished beyond repair.

Of course, it hadn’t all been easy.

Paschal had had to help them come to terms with their elation and persisting fear, the nightmares, the thoughts of being betrayed, Damen’s guilt over failing in his promise, Laurent’s restlessness of having his life’s goal completed and his anxiety when left alone…

Damen now saw the benefits of therapy. He and Laurent went together most days. Nicaise had begun to schedule separate appointments with Paschal and Damen had noticed the change in his personality as well. Neither he nor Nicaise had even imagined that they would look forward to therapy sessions but…oh, how his worldview had changed…

So much had changed.

“They’re still playing this?”

Damen turned and a fuzzy white blur slammed into the back of his legs. “ _Jesus_! Fuck!” He had to twist his body to dodge the slobbering attentions of his and Laurent’s puppy. “Alaunt for the love of god, the last thing I need today are third-degree oil burns.”

Laurent whistled and the pup bounded back to him. On one of their summer trips to the lake house—one that didn’t include friends—Damen had gone back to the flower farm and bought one of the pups as gift for Laurent. It was love at first sight, though Alaunt loved Laurent more than Damen.

Laurent sidestepped his joyous dog and nestled against Damen’s back. “What are we having today?”

Damen never tired of the sight as he looked back at Laurent. He looked especially sharp today too.

“Flambéed _crepes suzette_.” Damen said, butchering the pretty French. “Very sweet. If that’s ok with you.” Laurent made a noise of satisfaction deep in his chest. “Oranges and strawberries, milk with honey, and candied walnuts.”

“Sounds good.” Laurent released him and slapped Damen hard on the ass in a way he did when he was excited. Damen would get him back eventually.

Laurent watched the news briefly before changing the channel to some sort of nature program as Damen began to flambé the pancakes. Honestly, after taking some cooking classes as a hobby, he didn’t know how most French people didn’t die immediately from the sheer amount of butter used in their recipes. He had already soaked the crepes in the orangey-sweet syrup he had prepared and was beginning to pour on the liqueur for the flames when he heard the door open with a crash.

He was no long startled by these types of interruptions and looked behind him to see Nicaise enter in a whirling dervish of long limbs—tanned from lounging by the lakeside over the summer—and heavy bags.

“You’re awfully calm this morning.” Laurent said dryly from where he was perched on the dark leather sofa; Alaunt had rushed from his side to greet Nicaise with his usual excitement. “No Aktis today?”

Nicaise liked Aktis as well as he could like anybody, and they had developed a brotherly relationship. The two of them continued to play video games together at least once a week and Nicaise had asked Aktis to act as his bailiff during his testimony for emotional support.

Damen would never tell Nicaise, but Aktis—who was no pushover—cried a little, he was so touched at the gesture. Upon hearing Nicaise’s testimony, he stated with utter seriousness that he would kill Laurent’s uncle if he ever set foot outside of prison again.

“He’s busy,” Nicaise replied dismissively, leaning down to pet Alaunt. “Some big to do down at headquarters. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Damen?”

Damen smiled as blue flames engulfed the pan and licked the edges of the crepes. “Maybe.” The crepes brown and bubbled, releasing a scent similar to spun sugar and oranges. They formed a glaze on the skin: clear, sweet and sticky.

Nicaise could not sit still for a single moment, and Laurent watched him bounce around the apartment with a smile. “My god Nicaise, sit down or you’ll knock something over.”

Nicaise only followed orders when Damen finished the crepes and poured the honeyed milk into tall frosted glasses. Laurent moved over to help him place all of the flatware on the table and would have commandeered Nicaise’s help, if the boy weren’t so jumpy. He was likely to break plates and drop food if he got a hand on them.

“Are you excited?” Damen asked him when he was finally able to sit, sliding a few crepes and a small heap of fruit onto a plate for the boy.

Nicaise’s big blue eyes were honest for once as he began to eat and talk at the same time. “Yes!...No? Sort of. I…I don’t know what to expect; I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up and sometimes I wonder if anyone has seen me on the television.” Laurent shot that idea down immediately; as minor his identity had not been released to the public. “What if the other kids are annoying? I don’t care but…what if they don’t like me? I don’t know if I can avoid getting in trouble if some cunt tries to start shit. What if the food tastes like shit?”

“That’s the spirit,” Laurent said dryly in between a bit of his own.

“If anyone tries to bully you, tell them you have seven older brothers who will come pay them a visit.” Damen offered. “And don’t worry about the food situation. I’ve got you covered. Your food is in the fridge, middle shelf. I’ll try to make a helping for you during dinner the night before.”

Nicaise smiled. “That seems like a fair enough trade for all the times I’ve walked in on you two dripping god knows what down your nipples.”

Damen choked on a strawberry and felt his face flush. Some things never changed.

Laurent also blushed—probably at the memory, more than Nicaise’s crude language. “My god, it was melted caramel ice cream, it was _one time_ , and that entire event could have been avoided if you learned how to knock like a civilized human being!”

“I request a change of subject.” Damen said meekly.

“Don’t you love having me live across the street?” Nicaise asked.

“Yes.” Laurent replied so easily that Nicaise blushed this time. “Now save your wicked comments for your new classmates and finish your damn breakfast. You don’t want to be late on the first day of school.”

Nicaise wolfed down whatever was put in front of him and Damen assumed that—once again, despite his bravado—he was actually very nervous; he even consented to help Damen put the dishes away without complaint. Damen noticed he was still wearing the sapphire studs in his ears and he was comfortable enough with Nicaise now that he touched one lightly.

“You still want to keep these in?” By now he knew coping mechanisms were different for everyone. He, for example, kept his emotions bottled inside; Nicaise lashed out. But the earrings seemed like a stark, dark blue reminder of his past.

Nicaise rubbed his earlobes. “I just…I want to keep them in so I remember to take this seriously. I need this so I remember that I can never go back.”

“That’s…”Sometimes Damen didn’t know what to say in response to some of the things Nicaise and Laurent admitted to him. He didn’t want to sound patronizing. “That sounds effective. Whatever it takes to get you to do your homework.” Nicaise stuck out his tongue, but Damen knew better; Aktis had told him once that Nicaise was actually excited to have homework.

“Speaking of unpleasant memories…Laurent! Have you heard from Auguste recently?”

It was one of Nicaise’s favorite topics when he wanted to annoy Damen and, on any other day, Damen would have flicked water at Nicaise’s head.

The only reason Auguste hadn’t murdered him in the hospital was because Laurent had not left his side for longer than it took to shower and use the restroom. After Laurent and Damen both had trouble sleeping upon returning home, Auguste had become even more apoplectic with rage when Laurent moved out of his brownstone, Damen sold his own apartment and the two of them moved in together on a quiet street fifteen minutes from the Botanical Gardens. Nicaise was moved not long after to a modest one-bedroom across the street so that Laurent could keep an eye on him.

This arrangement had irritated Auguste so much that he actually went one week without speaking to Laurent.

He had since recovered and though he and Damen would never be close friends again, they could at least be civil with one another. Damen could do that for Laurent’s sake.

“Yes,” Laurent called from where he was feeding Alaunt. “He said to tell you good luck on your first day. He’s busy with the company overhaul and offered to have someone drive you over. I told him that you’d prefer to bike while it’s still warm and maybe we can start the chauffeuring in the winter.”

“May I request a limousine?” Nicaise asked.

“I’ll have Damen throw you over his shoulder.” Laurent responded smoothly, scratching Alaunt behind the ears.

After the dishes were cleaned and placed on the drying rack, Damen removed the small lunchbox he and Laurent had bought for Nicaise one day in a specialty shop. In the Asian-style, it was painted dark blue and decorated with a motif of wicked little red-brown foxes bounding through the snow.

Damen had packed it the previous night with dry-fried string beans, roasted chicken with a honey glaze, and orzo cooked with garlic and ginger. It was something new for him and Laurent had guaranteed the excellent taste.

Nicaise was bouncing in place as Damen handed the box off to him. Laurent stood smoothly and wandered over to where the two of them were standing.

“Here’s your lunch.” Damen said.

“Thank you.” Nicaise said absently, carefully putting the box in the recesses of his backpack.

“You must truly be nervous, if you’re thanking him of your own volition.” Laurent said jokingly, ruffling Nicaise’s hair. Nicaise glared. “Do you have all your shit? Your notebooks? ID? Do you have your pepper spray? If I get a call hearing you’ve used it on someone, I’ll want a good reason.” That pepper spray had been a gift from Damen’s men; as huge as they were, they felt someone as small as Nicaise needed a weapon. It had come from the company’s personal stock and could easily bring down a man Damen’s size.

“You’ll do great, Nicaise.” Damen assured as Nicaise petted Alaunt for courage. “Don’t scare your teachers.”

“You assholes have a lot of rules.” Nicaise shot back as he stood up. His thin shoulders went up dramatically and then back down as he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Ok! I’m off!”

Laurent ruffled his curly brown hair by way of sending him off and Nicaise was out of the door, glowing with uncontrolled excitement over the prospect of the first day of school. Damen watched him go and knew he would be a terror; he was intelligent enough to keep pace with Laurent, could argue circles around most people, and had the cool self-assurance that would make him friends easily.

“Don’t you cry on me, Damianos.” Laurent said jokingly.

Damen turned to face Laurent, smiling. “I’m feeling emotional…Kiss me so I feel better.” Laurent scoffed, his face still heartbreakingly lovely, even when he looked disgusted but he gave up his lips with no protest.

Damen cupped the back of Laurent’s head, gently rubbing his scalp in the way he knew Laurent liked. Laurent moaned a little and Damen allowed his tongue to explore. Laurent pulled the neck of Damen’s tight white T-shirt so that Damen was pressed up his body; they both made little sounds of pleasure as the kiss became more and more intense. Damen did not realize how intense until he pulled back to catch his breath and found that he had inadvertently pushed Laurent back onto the couch.

Even now…it was amazing to him that Laurent was his lover. They were safe and Laurent loved him.

“What are you looking at?” Laurent asked with no bite.

“I was thinking…we still have some leftover caramel ice cream in the freezer…”

Laurent blushed and laughed at the same time, kicking Damen solidly on his flank. “You’re ridiculous. Now get off, we have some shit to do…in case you haven’t forgotten.” He sputtered as Alaunt bounded over to lick Laurent’s unprotected face.

“Forgive me.” Damen offered a hand and helped Laurent up. “It’s easy to forget, looking at your face. But…I would ask your help with something.”

Damen and Laurent showered together and began the preparations for their own busy day. Damen was beginning to feel just as nervous as Nicaise had appeared and didn’t trust his trembling hands to shave himself. Instead, while completely naked, he hoisted Laurent up onto their bathroom counter so he could sit and shave Damen’s jaw for him.

Smooth, thin hands lathered up Damen’s rough chin and Laurent began to sharpen Damen’s straight razor against the thick strap of leather. Damen had preferred an electric razor but Lazar, the fucking hipster, had convinced Laurent that the straight razor gave a closer shave…and it was sexier.

“Hold still!” Laurent ordered, hooking his bare legs around Damen’s waist. “You don’t want to start off with a bleeding face.”

Damen relaxed in response to the razor and Laurent’s fingertips sliding down his jaw.

They were half done when Damen couldn’t take it anymore. When Laurent washed the blade, Damen leaned forward and began to kiss the jut of Laurent’s collarbone. Laurent groaned in faux annoyance, but Damen could feel his heartbeat thundering under lily-petal skin.

“Let’s not go in today.” He said jokingly. “Let’s stay here and you can read me your favorite poems.” That had become one of Laurent’s favorite things to do; they never actually got around to reading the poems as Damen’s head always ended up buried between his fine legs.

“You _must_ be joking!” Laurent scoffed, tilting Damen’s chin back up. “This is one of the most important days of your life. Now let me finish shaving you; save your clever tongue for later,” he raised one eyebrow indicative of his meaning, “ok?”

“Ok, ok.” Damen said, looking forward already to coming home after his long day.

Laurent finished shaving him without further incident and then they hurried out of the bathroom to finish their preparations, amidst dodging Alaunt.

From their shared closet, Damen pulled out the long garment bag, untouched for so long. But he had made himself a promise. His heart hammered as he unzipped the bag and stared down at his future…

 

There was a glossy black car waiting by the curb for the two of them when they emerged from the front door.

Laurent looked smooth and sleek, with his blond hair gelled back and his lean body crisp and sharp in the lines of his perfectly tailored, dark blue suit. Damen smiled at his lover, already every inch a powerful lawyer.

“Your tie is crooked Damianos. Wait, let me fix it.”

Before the two of them entered the car, Laurent fixed Damen’s appearance and smiled at the end result. Damen kissed Laurent’s cheeks in thanks. “Will you do me a favor?” Laurent rolled his eyes when he heard Damen’s plan, but he took the photo with his phone and handed it over to be sent. “Text Auguste this and tell him ‘thank you for fulfilling the final part of our deal’.”

Damen didn’t hear back from his little prank until they were already in the car, well on their way.

Laurent’s phone began to buzz and when he answered it, Damen could hear Auguste’s cursing of him even without the speakerphone button on. “This is a goddamn disgrace! I’ll turn a blind eye to you dating that stubborn asshole but don’t make me look at his fucking face any more than I have to! Goddamn him! Although…Laurent you did fantastic work commissioning those clothes. Fuck you Damianos! I know you’re listening!” Then he hung up without allowing a word in edgewise. Damen was in stitches of laughter by the end of the tirade.

Laurent rolled his eyes. “You hellhound. Some things never change…”

“I’m trying to ease my stress…hellcat.” Fuzzy golden ears flicked in response.

The two of them didn't talk much on the rest of the ride, aside from an occasional question from Laurent, and by the time they reached the business district Damen and Laurent were holding hands. Damen rubbed small circles in the soft skin of Laurent’s hand to calm himself.

When the car stopped, Damen took a deep breath to steady himself.

Laurent’s eyes were wide and gentle as he squeezed Damen’s hand. “Are you ready?”

Damen smiled at him. “It’s been so long. I hope…I can do this.”

“I know you can.” Laurent assured him.

Laurent did not let go of his hand as they walked through the sliding glass doors and into the marble entrance hall. Nikandros, Pallas, Lydos and Aktis were there to greet him, no longer confined to the basement and dead-end guard jobs. They greeted Damen and Laurent, proud to walk the two of them through the familiar twists and turns of the building. Laurent smiled with the anticipation of it all as he and Damen rode the elevator to the top floor conference room.

Damen saw them waiting on the opposite side of the glass doors and he prepared himself to do what he had been dreaming of for so long: wearing the suit that Laurent ordered for him in their first week together, Damen prepared to walk into the conference room to greet his investors and reclaim his company. It was only sweetened by Laurent being by his side. They were untouchable.

** The End **

 


End file.
